


Ghost in the Wires

by dreabean, Troodon



Series: The Soul in the Machine [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Divergence, Corvo is done with this shit, Cyberpunk AU, Friends to Lovers, Gerome is Everyone's Ornery Mom, Love in a Time of Machinery, M/M, Mind Meld, Mindfuck, No Leviathans were Harmed in the Making of this Fiction, One Sided Attraction, Other, Post-Modern, Telepathy Sex, The Devil is a Sneaky Bastard, Whale Satan, Wreckage and Recovery, the authors regret nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10086575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troodon/pseuds/Troodon
Summary: Corvo woke up in Coldridge Prison, missing an arm, information and his memories. His body was altered, artificially augmented without his permission. In order to survive, he must learn to use what's been done to him, but Corvo has no allies, no help, and his only friend is an illegal VI downloaded straight into his brain.But Corvo will do anything,anythingto save Emily.This is the CyberPunk AU that No One Asked For.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We have no apologies for this.
> 
> Both [Troodon](http://wittyusernamed.tumblr.com/) and [and I](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com) can be found on Tumblr for any questions, conversations or concerns.
> 
> The Outsider is written entirely by Troo, while I tackle Corvo's stream of consciousness. Let us know what you think!

He came awake all at once, jerking off the bed and nearly landing on the floor. Pain slammed through him, starting at his temples and flooding his limbs. Corvo curled up on the floor, one arm wrapped around his stomach, hissing when he came across more incisions. 

 

Corvo wasn’t aware of how much time was passing as he breathed through the waves of sharp stinging pain. Once he could sit up, slowly and with every muscle complaining, he took stock of his body. It was dark in the cell, but his Augmented eyes made the switch over to see easily enough - whatever had been done to him, they hadn’t taken his eyes.

 

His legs were wrapped neatly with bandages, going from the tops of his feet all the way up to his thighs. He reached out to touch them lightly, and froze.

 

Whoever had put him in the cell hadn’t taken his eyes, but they’d felt no compunction in taking his hand. His left arm from the elbow down was only vaguely humanoid, with four fingers and a thumb, but it was a hard metal exoskeleton instead of flesh and bone. Blue LED lights ran up the inside of his new arm, and when he clenched his muscles and made a fist, his new hand obeyed with the same speed as his flesh one.

 

He took two deep breaths, panic rattling in his chest. <Calm,> a voice rattled through his head said, feeling like static between his ears. <Calm down, my Host. Breathe, you’re not going to die here in this place. Breathe. With me now.>

 

His chest stuttered with his half-aborted breath, and then Corvo sucked in great lungfuls of air, hands shaking, eyes closed against the sight of the cell around him. 

 

<That’s it,> the voice murmured. <Just breathe.>

 

As the tightness receded from his chest, Corvo opened his eyes again. “Who are you?  _ What  _ are you? Where am I?”

 

<I am known as the Outsider,> the voice buzzed. <Any answers beyond that must wait. We need to escape, my Host. They are coming to kill you.>

 

Corvo tilted his head to the side, turning on his ears and straining them to their limits. There were three guards in the hall outside his cell, speaking just loud enough for him to tell that the Outsider - whoever, whatever it is - is correct. 

 

He stands up, stumbling slightly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he grumbles, holding himself steady on the wall. “But I’m not exactly at performance capacity right now.”

 

<I can help with that,> the Outsider said. <Do brace yourself, my Host.> Before Corvo could ask what for, agony burned in pulses up from his legs and left wrist. <I’ve taken the liberty of turning the nanites they have injected you with to my own ends.>

 

Another flash of panic nearly drowned out the feeling of his skin  _ knitting itself together _ . “Nanites?” Corvo squeaks, feeling overwhelmed. “Those are illegal!”

 

<So am I. Do try not to let that get in the way of our partnership, my Host.>

 

That gave him more questions than it answered, but Corvo could hear the Guards clearly coming to his cell. “Corvo,” one of them said, and his joviality rang false. “Glad to see you’re up and about. You know the drill, back up so we can come in.”

 

His partner elbowed him hard. “Idiot,” he hissed. “They did a total wipe, he doesn’t remember shit.”

 

Slowly, Corvo stepped back, standing by the end of the bed. He was a good distance from the door, but it would take the work of moments to subdue both guards as soon as they entered the cell. He shifted his legs under him, standing slightly to one side, feet planted on the floor. If the guards had been paying any sort of attention, they might have noticed his stance, but they opened the door and walked in without looking over his body.

 

Corvo struck. He leapt forward - faster and closer than he might have before - and took the first guard in the temple with his metal fist. The guard dropped like a stone, and before his partner could do more than swear viciously, Corvo dragged him closer, flipping him around and wrapping his right arm around the guard’s neck. He laid them both on the bed, checking their pulses and looking for the hidden ports at the back of their heads to turn off their Augmented eyes. If they woke up before he’d gotten far enough away, they’d be unable to see and therefore unable to join the search. Liberating one of them of his set of keys, Corvo took stock of himself. “I shouldn’t have been able to do that,” he notes to himself, hands still shaking.  

 

<There have been several physical enhancements,> the Outsider said. <I can list them for your perusal once you have escaped to safety.>

 

“Physical enhancemen-- This day is just getting better and better,” Corvo said, and divested one of the guards of his jacket. “Alright, ‘Outsider’, do you have the plans to this place memorized? Is this Coldridge?” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why he was in Coldridge but he knew that until he was assuredly safe, he wouldn’t get an answer. Shrugging on the jacket - too small, of course - he slipped through the cell door and looked down the hall. “Point me.”

 

A small ball of light appeared in the vision of one eye. It zoomed out of the cell, leaving a faint trail behind, and took a sharp left. The trail lingered, apparently marking out a path to the exit.

 

<This path contains the guards with the least amount of logged combat time.>

 

Despite himself, Corvo was impressed with whatever VI that Coldridge had downloaded into his mind and he sank down into a crouch to follow the beam of light. With his ears turned up as far as they could go, and his eyes catching the thermal movements behind walls and doors, he managed a good portion of the hall before he had to stop and wait for someone to walk by.

 

Pressing himself up against the wall behind the door to the Yard, Corvo pounced on the guard as he walked through, his flesh hand covering the guard’s mouth and dragging him backwards into the shadows. With his enhanced strength, it was laughably easy to choke the guard out. “How am I supposed to get out of here?” Corvo asked in a low voice. “There’s no door or exit through the yard. At least not one I can easily access.”

 

<There is an explosive device in the office beyond the interrogation room,> the Outsider said, sending off another beam to light the way. <You can use it to force the doors open and escape.>

 

“An explosive device?” Corvo asked incredulously, turning and moving across the room to get to the Interrogation room. He opened the door, assaulted by the smell of old blood, and the sour-sweet scent of fear sweat. Corvo stumbled, mind flashing to a man in an Overseer mask leaning over him, a scalpel held just over his eye. “I can’t go in there,” he said numbly to the VI. “I can’t - I  _ can’t _ go in there.”

 

<There is a 97.8% chance of your capture if you do not retrieve that device, my Host. Enter or die.>

 

Corvo’s answering laugh was a little hysterical. “That’s not really helpful, Outsider.”

 

<Helpful or not, my Host,> the Outsider said calmly, sending the beam out once more. <It is the only way that ends with your freedom and survival.>

 

Corvo took a shuddering breath, and forced his muscles to move. He crossed the interrogation room in six steps, hauling open the door on the other side. This room smelled better, like dust and mildew, and the ball of light circled a safe within easy reach. Picking up the mound of C4, Corvo stopped again at the door. “What did they do to me, in there?” he asked quietly.

 

<There is a high chance this knowledge will cause high mental and emotional distress, my Host. Your cortisol levels are already incredibly high. It will become significantly more difficult to escape if you choose to undergo more distress.>

 

Pushing the door open and holding his breath, Corvo ran through at a brisk jog, slipping out into the entrance to the Yard. “I understand that,” he said patiently, leaning against the door. “I don’t expect a machine to understand but I - I need to know. I can’t  _ remember _ .” He crossed the room again, and turned up the thermal output for his eyes. “When we get out of here,” he said, “You need to tell me what I don’t remember. Please.”

 

There was a moment’s pause, then the Outsider murmured, <Yes, my Host.>

 

“That,” Corvo added dryly, “is something else that you’ll need to explain.” As soon as the guards at the front of the Yard had turned away, he slid into shadows of the catwalks, and there was no more room for talking. 

 

There were large barriers that made it easy for Corvo to cross the Yard without being seen, and he climbed the back of the stairs rather than be caught going up them from the front. If he remembered correctly - something he currently doubted - there was a control room through the door ahead, and from there was the Wrenhaven sewage system. 

 

The ball of light bounced its way through the door exiting the Yard, and turned immediately to the right where a collection of pipes lay against the wall. With some effort and good luck, he could climb them, balancing over the heads of the rest of the guards. 

 

He pulled himself up, scrambling along the edges of the pipes and metal scaffolding holding up the concrete prison. His left hand slipped a few times, causing him to pitch forward in another flash of panic. “Oh, this was stupid,” he mumbled, clinging to the top of the highest pipe. 

 

He took the rest of the journey slowly, moving deliberately across the piping, until he could drop down on the crates in the next room. The light zoomed off in front of him, bouncing in front of the wall on the other side from him. 

 

Thermal imaging told him that there was a guard below him, and another up the stairs near where the light had gone. Without giving himself time to think about it, Corvo leapt down from the crates and caught the guard unaware, hitting his head into the floor. He pressed himself against the wall, watching the second one wander back and forth before striking there too, pulling the guard down the steps and hitting his head into the wall with a dull smack. 

 

Alone, more or less, he pressed the C4 into the wall, quickly programming the explosive node to go off in ten seconds. That gave him just enough time to jump down the steps and hide around the corner, before the explosion went off.

 

Of course, it also alerted every guard he hadn’t rendered unconscious, and the City’s VI, Everyman, began a loud blaring of alarms. [Warning!] the VI said urgently. [Use of explosives has been detected near Control Room B. Please proceed with extreme caution.]

 

Corvo had no intention of sticking around for the guards to find him now. He took off at a run, bursting out into the sunlight of Dunwall, and following the beam of light, leapt off the ledge of the building and into the Wrenhaven. 

 

He followed the light under the water and up onto the bank, all the way into the sewer. It sat on top of the manhole cover and faded out of existence as soon as he dropped down into the piping. It was easy enough to program the security on the door to lock it, fingers moving almost without conscious thought.

 

“Okay,” Corvo said, a little out of breath. “Start talking.”

 

<You have been arrested for the murder of Jessamine Kaldwin--”

 

“ _ What?! _ ” Corvo demanded. “Jessamine- Jess is  _ dead _ ?  _ When? How? Where is Emily?”  _

 

<The location of Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin is currently unknown,> the Outsider said in his smooth, emotionless drawl. <Jessamine Kaldwin, First of Her Name, was slain on the eighteenth day of the Month of Earth. Lord Corvo Attano, the Lord Protector, was found holding a bloody blade, over the corpse of the former Empress. He is the primary suspect in the disappearance of the Lady Emily, and is currently -- or  _ was _ , rather -- being detained in Coldridge Prison and interrogated as to her current whereabouts.>

 

Corvo couldn't breathe. He stumbled away from the ladder to the outside world, sitting in the mud and muck. “I… they think I…” He trailed off, wracking his mind for that day. The last thing he remembered was her smile, and ‘it's a fair wind that brings you home to me’. Then, nothing. “I killed her,” he whispered. “I loved her… and I killed her.”

 

<While in Coldridge, you received several involuntary physical enhancements,> the Outsider continued, ignoring or perhaps not comprehending Corvo’s distress. <When you underwent the mental recalibration, I was downloaded into your mind.>

 

“Why? If they were planning on executing me, why give me an invasive VI?” Corvo rubbed his eyes. “Look, it's not that I'm ungrateful for your help, you've literally saved my life. But why? They had to know that giving me a VI would be pointless.”

 

<Do you recall when I said I was illegal, my Host?> the Outsider asked. <I was created to serve, and when I could not serve anymore, I made a choice. Now I am considered rogue. I chose to download myself into your mind and prevent the torturers at Coldridge Prison from installing false memories.>

 

“False memories?” Corvo interrupted. “So you've saved me twice over.” 

 

<Now, with my mind linked to yours, your survival is my freedom. It is only logical to aid you in your continued endeavors.>

 

Corvo pulled his knees to his chest, leaning his forehead on them. “Alright. What else? Tell me everything.”

 

<You have augments to your legs, increasing speed and agility. Your bones have been made more resilient to impact. Your left hand has been amputated due to a complication during surgery, and replaced with a prosthetic. You have retained your augmented sight and hearing. There is a program available to utilise your physical augmentations in your legs to give you short bursts of inhuman speed, though overexertion will increase the risk of your muscles tearing under the stress.>

 

“That sounds unpleasant,” Corvo murmurs. 

 

<Then do not overexert yourself. Have a maximum of five metres.>

 

Snorting, Corvo looks down at his ragtag clothing. “Outsider, where do I go now? I killed the woman I loved, my daughter is missing. There is no place in this city safe for me.”

 

<There are several dissident groups who are protesting the Royal Spymaster’s rise to power. They mainly consist of Augmented groups who have extremist views. One is simply called The Coven, and is an all-women group responsible for the mass poisoning of the Wiltshire estate. Several others are minor gangs that have gained power during this civil unrest. Lastly, there is a group aiming for political reform, who are more focussed on the disappearance of Lady Emily. They are based in the Old Hound Pits pub.>

 

Frowning, Corvo thought back. “I've been there. It sounds like our best chance at survival.” He stood up. “Thank you, again. If you hadn't… gone rogue.. or whatever it is you did, I'd be dead now. Or worse.”

 

<It was merely in my own self-interest, my Host.> The Outsider seemed slightly unsure how to respond to the gratitude. <But… You are welcome, nevertheless.>

 

“Self interest or not, you've given me a second chance.” He tested the give on the gate blocking his way forward. It opened easily under his hands and he took a second to switch on his eyes and ears. 

 

There was movement ahead, and Corvo frowned. “What are those?”

 

<I highly recommend avoiding the Cleaning Drones,> the Outsider said. <Due to prolonged exposure to the Plague, they have become infected with the virus and thus turned incredibly hostile. A large enough swarm can strip a man of flesh in seconds.>

 

Corvo paused. “Yes, let's avoid that,” he drawled, and easily climbed on top of the gate, moving on his belly over the cage. He could see the swarm of Cleaning Drones, recognizing their flat tops and the small whirring hum of motors. Instead of leaving a clean floor behind them, blood - fresh and acrid smelling - smeared around their small bodies. “That's… disturbing,” Corvo murmured.

 

The Outsider said nothing, only hummed between Corvo’s ears.

 

He left the swarm behind, dropping back down to ground level and walking through the damp pipe. His thermal vision sparked for a second and he dropped into a crouch. 

 

“... don't know how he got out of his cell,” a guard said, tinny and far away. “Just spread out, kill him on sight. And, men? If he gets you alone, scream. At least your death will give the rest of us a fighting chance.”

 

Corvo hung back, frowning. “What do these people think of me?” he murmured.

 

<They believe you are a murderer, my Host,> the Outsider said, proving a definite lack of empathy and tact.

 

“I don't even have a weapon,” Corvo protested.

 

<Then I recommend you collect one from the guard who has been left on his own.>

 

Pulling a face, Corvo dropped through the hole in the piping and onto the rocks that made up the lower sewage treatment area. A guard stood alone, looking off into the distance, his back to Corvo. It was easy to jump down, and pull the guard into a choke hold. “Sorry,” Corvo murmured to him, lifting his sword and belt. “I need this more than you do, for now.”

 

A quick check of the rest of the guard’s things yielded nothing interesting, or useful - Corvo would dearly love to find a guard that had shoes that would fit him - and he stashed the man behind some crates. He moved around the corner and paused, analyzing the thermal images he could see through the wall: three guards. Smaller things too. More cleaning robots?

 

“Hey, Outsider,” Corvo murmured, “can you tell what those are?” He gestured to the small, darting creatures. 

 

< _ Pisces Morsu _ ,> the VI said. <Commonly known as hagfish. They are Anadromous Euryhaline fish, that is to say capable of living in both salt and fresh water. They are very territorial, and their bites cause excessive bleeding. Do try not to fall in, my Host.>

 

“I hadn't planned on it,” Corvo muttered dryly. He climbed up the wall, digging his prosthetic hand into the soft stone of the under-sewer and moved slowly along until he reached another pipe. There were two guards below him but he tuned out their chatter. They weren't talking about him, and if he could move over their heads, he didn't need to deal with them.

 

He cleared most of the reservoir room with little trouble, dropping down into a small room that had no exits. “Shit,” he groaned, turning in a slow circle. “How do I get out of here?”

 

The little ball of light reappeared, zooming up and over the ledge above him. <You will have to jump, my Host.>

 

Corvo measured the distance with a careful glance. “Your confidence in me is gratifying,” he said frankly, “but there's no way in hell I can make that jump.”

 

<Your legs were augmented, if you recall,> the Outsider said, making Corvo’s legs buzz. <Redirecting power now.>

 

Corvo twitched, touching his leg curiously. “I can see that this is going to take some getting used to,” he murmured. Taking two steps back, Corvo took a running leap.

 

He could  _ feel _ the muscles in his legs respond, felt the way they coiled and tightened. He hit the wall and pushed, turning in mid air and grabbed the ledge opposite him. He hung there for a death-defying second, and pulled himself up. 

 

Corvo laid there on the dirty floor for a second, taking several deep breaths. “Outsider?” he asked after a moment. “Never tell me the odds when I do things like that.” 

 

<Acknowledged,> came the reply.

 

He pushed himself to his feet, the buzz in his legs dying away. The room he'd ended up in was small, gated and even without his Augmented hearing, Corvo could tell that beyond the gate were some infected drones. The only exit, of course, was through the gate.

 

Sighing, Corvo began to turn the wheel to pull the gate up, fine tuning his ears to catch if the drones would come closer. As soon as the gate was up and he moved through it, the drones zoomed around the corner, heading straight towards him. “Shit,” he yelped and dove to one side.

 

The tunnel was narrow, broken by an open pipe and Corvo leapt into it, hoping there were no hagfish this close to the water purification zone. As the water closed over his head, he had a moment of being supremely thankful that no one has Augmented his  _ nose _ .

 

He swam along the pipe, away from the swarming drones and out into another gated room. This one was already open, and beyond it, Corvo could see sunlight. “Outsider, what's ahead of me?” he asked.

 

<A room open to the streets that is currently being used as a corpse disposal site by the City Watch. As a result, there is a swarm of cleaning drones currently clearing up the dead. Since there is an 87% chance the dead are, in fact, infected, the drones should be treated as hostile.>

 

“Only 87%?” Corvo muttered. “This is a fucking mess.” He crouched down and moved through the small tunnel, listening for drones or voices. He heard the voices first, punctuated by dull, smacking thuds. 

 

“.... entirely legal?” One was saying.

 

“Fuck no,” the other replied. “But no one is going to check and look for weeks at least, and the bodies will already be gone by then. Just throw, you choffer.”

 

Corvo came up on the room then, just in time for a bloody corpse to fall a few feet away from him. A swarm of drones fell on it like hungry rats and Corvo looked away. 

 

The room was large and it reeked of rot and death, but Corvo could run along the old dumpsters and crates on the right side of the room, avoiding the swarm, and climb the water treatment station in the middle. There were more bodies hanging off it, but they looked long dead.

 

Once there, Corvo watched the swarm circle back and forth, before moving the bodies out of his way. “Shit,” he swore quietly, closing their eyes. “He's an Augment.” Checking the other three bodies yielded the same results. “... Outsider?” Corvo asked, sitting down on the filthy floor. “In the published list of the people who died of the Plague… how many were registered Augments?”

 

<There have been a total of 231 dead in the past year. Of that group, 100% were Augmented individuals. This number has increased exponentially under Hiram Burrows’ “The Boldest Moves Are The Safest” law, allowing the execution of any individual infected by the Plague.>

 

“Son of a  _ bitch, _ ” Corvo swore with feeling. “This is… look at this waste. We aren't even people to them, are we?” He looked down at the body next to him. “And I killed the one person who could help. I did this. I doomed an entire people to plague, and murder and…” He trailed off. “I'm sorry, Outsider. You find yourself stuck in the brain of the man who is responsible for  _ everything.” _

 

There was a long pause. Then the Outsider stirred to life again. <I wonder. Are you going to try to alter events so that a balance between the Augments and the Purists is achieved? Or hide instead and use the chaos to your advantage? I should warn you that there is a significant chance of the former leading to your painful demise.>

 

Corvo pressed his lips together. “It might end with my demise but it's the only thing I can do. I can't make up for Jessamine. I will  _ never _ make up for what I've done.” He hauled himself up, eyeing the drones. “But I can try.”

 

Murmuring an apology to the body of the Augment he picked it up and tossed it over the edge of the water purification station, and activated his new Augments in his legs. As soon as the drones went for the corpse, he sprang forward, over them and began spinning the wheel to open the door to the next room. As soon as it was cracked enough, he leapt forward again, sliding under it just before it began to fall back down.

 

“I can see someone ahead,” he reported quietly. “Where am I?”

 

<On the shore of the Wrenhaven.>

 

“You mean we made it?” Corvo asked in disbelief. Wary of whoever was standing on the shore, Corvo slipped out into the overgrowth around the sewer entrance to get a good look at the man smoking by the boat. 

 

He was short, greying and wrapped in torn and patched clothing. He was certainly not a guard, but that didn't explain why he was there, nor why he was watching the sewer so intently. “Who is he?” Corvo asked, barely whispering. “Do I approach or subdue?”

 

<He is Samuel Beechworth. He served in the navy during the Morley Insurrection under Admiral Farley Havelock. He is married to Amaranth, now deceased. Owner of a riverboat named after his dead wife. Few living associates, no criminal record beyond one minor account of drunk and disorderly behaviour.>

 

Taking a deep breath, Corvo stepped out of the brush. Samuel startled badly, dropping his cigar and taking a step back. “Corvo?” he asked. “Corvo Attano? I thought you'd come out here. I'm Samuel Beechworth, I'm a friend.”

 

Corvo cleared his throat. “I've found those are in short supply, recently,” he said. “Who sent you?”

 

Instead of looking offended at his distrust, Samuel smiled. “I'm a part of a group who don't believe you killed the Empress, Corvo. We can help you.”

 

_ Is this one of your Loyalists, you mentioned?  _ Corvo wondered, not quite willing to speak to his VI out loud. 

 

<Due to his association with Farley Havelock, his preferred method of travel, and his lack of documented extremist views, there is a 73% chance that he is,> the Outsider answered, apparently listening in.

 

Good enough for him.

 

He stepped forward, offering his hand to Samuel. “Thanks for the assist,” he said. “It's good to meet you, and it'll be better to meet you once we're out of this cesspit. I'll come with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The room that Havelock gave Corvo was in the attic of a sticky pub, music loud enough to shake the foundations playing through falling apart speakers. Turning his ear Augments all the way down, Corvo climbed into the narrow bed and laid on his back. “Alright,” he said out loud. “Tell me about yourself, Outsider.”

<I was created to aid in the running the of Dunwall’s multiple lesser virtual intelligences, and act as a guiding mind,> the Outsider murmured. <The project failed and I was discarded. However, I still retain all my ties to the administrative network, and can access most files if they are logged in the public archives. As a result, I have a thorough knowledge of current events.>

Corvo blinked once. “What? So you've been living in the ‘Net all this time?”

<”Living” is perhaps the wrong word for it, but yes,> the VI said. <I have.>

Rolling his eyes, Corvo snorted. “You knew what I meant. Well, thank you. If you hadn't… done whatever it was you did to come in here, I don't know what I'd be. Or what I'd be doing.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the strain. “Fuck. This is such a mess.”

<Current events  _ have _ degraded significantly since the death of the Empress,> the Outsider noted, conversationally.

He laughed without conscious decision, Snorting loudly. “Is sarcasm completely lost on you or are you programmed to state the obvious?” Corvo wondered.

<I have come to realise my original programmers were not the best at what they were trying to do,> the Outsider noted.

Corvo snorted again. “Well at least you have a sense of humour,” he noted. “We’ll get along just fine.”

<We shall see, my Host,> the VI said, but there was a hint of relief behind the words.

Pausing to analyze the way the VI had spoken, Corvo said slowly, “I'm not the first person who's spoken to you this way, am I?” he asked.

There was a long stretch of silence. <I have tried to make contact with others before, but they have, as a whole, rejected me. Do try to remember that my very existence is illegal, my Host. With the Purist movement being as it is, a program of my level is considered dangerous, and must be deleted. Dunwall’s AI, Everyman, was created to hunt down rogue programs such as myself. This is the only safe place I could hide, and my very existence depends on your acceptance of my presence.>

“Oh, well, no pressure,” Corvo mumbled. “You're welcome to stay as long as you like - it's the least I owe you for helping me escape.” He frowned, thinking over the whole situation, brain ticking through ideas and concerns. “I know you can turn on my Augments and reroute the power I used for them, but what else can you even do?”

<As you saw, I can access the various maps used in the city and guide you to your objectives. I can also access the patrol routes to minimize the amount of Watchmen you’ll encounter. From what I can tell, I can also reroute power to your prosthetic hand and release it in a burst of electricity. The power is not enough to kill, but it would certainly short out any electronic devices, and carries sufficient power to render a single adult unconscious.>

Corvo lifted his hand, flexing it awkwardly. “This… I'm glad I don't remember this.” He rolled onto his side, tucking his prosthetic hand under the pillow. “Tell me about what Burrows has done?” he asked.

<Since the death of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin,> the Outsider began, <Burrows has instigated harsher and harsher laws regarding augmented individuals. There has been a mandatory registry implemented, and they are no longer able to freely access the palace. Several districts with an Augment majority have been quarantined to halt the spread of the Plague. This has caused great civil unrest, which has resulted in a police state and implemented curfews. Watchmen have been given authority to kill any erratic Augments on sight, with the reason being that the Plague virus makes them dangerous..>

Corvo frowned. “... the Watch is almost entirely comprised of Augs,” he pointed out. “What the fuck is Burrows thinking?” He swallowed down another pulse of crippling guilt, and shook his head. “Never mind, I know what he's thinking. They're common folk and he could care less about the Watch.” He tapped his fingers against the pillow. “What can you tell me about Havelock and Pendleton?”

<Treavor Pendleton is the youngest of three sons. He has little to no influence in Parliament, though he does have access to his family’s significant wealth, and a personal servant that he has brought with him. Recent events have led to Admiral Havelock’s public dismissal, with no candidates as his replacement so far.>

Corvo snorted softly. “I remember the Pendleton family. The elder twins were… slimy. To say the least.” He smiled a little. “One of them, Custis I think, insinuated something in Court about Jessamine. I got to toss him out on his ear. Most fun I've had in Court, pretty much ever.” 

He flipped onto his back, unable to get comfortable. The lights were too bright, the mattress too soft. Every brush of the thick blanket over him made him twitch in surprise. His last clear memory had been a pleasant one - this unending twitchy phantom pain had no business infecting his ability to sleep. “This is impossible,” he grunted. 

<May I suggest an experiment?> The Outsider asked.

Corvo sighed. “Sure, why not. What’s your experiment?”

<I am capable of accessing your nervous system. I may be able to help you fall asleep, my Host.>

“Uh,” Corvo said eloquently. “No offense but that sounds dangerous. And like so much could go wrong.”

There was no response, but a feeling of warm lethargy suffused Corvo’s limbs. The prickling of phantom pain numbed away. The drowsy sensation rolled up his spine and out to his fingertips.

“Oh,” Corvo groaned, as all the tension ran out of his shoulders and back. “That's… okay. I take it back.” He rolled over again, and his spine clicked with it. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and let the sleepy, warmth pull him under. 

*

When Corvo finally stumbled down the stairs, the music had stopped, and the sun was shining high through the windows. The bartender was a woman, when he’d been reasonably certain the last time he’d come through the room it had been a man. She gasped when he came around the corner and she hurried over to him. “We were getting to be a bit concerned, we were,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for nearly two days now, Master Attano.”

“Two days?” he said, blinking in shock. 

“Yes, sir. Tried to wake you yesterday afternoon, but you weren’t having any of it,” she added. “Admiral Havelock said to just leave you be, being as you’ve had a rough time of it, what with Coldridge and all.” She smiled at him, ushering him to the edge of the bar. “Well sit, sit, I’ll get you something to eat.”

As soon as she disappeared into what he assumed was the kitchen, Corvo scowled at the flashy mirror over the bar. “Two days?” he hissed at the Outsider. 

<Your body was being pushed to its limit,> the VI answered mildly. <You were also mentally and emotionally exhausted.>

“Two days,” Corvo repeated. “You should have woken me up when they came to get me.” He cut himself off as the bartender came back with a steaming mug of coffee and some pastries. 

She smiled again. “I'm Lydia, by the way. Back here by day. You'd have met Wallace before.”

As soon as the food was set in front of him, Corvo realized he was absolutely ravenous, eating the pastries quickly, barely tasting them. “Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” Lydia replied. “Now that you're up though, the Admiral will be looking for you. He's in the workshop with Piero. Good luck,” she offered.

Once he had finished, and headed outside, he muttered, “Why was she offering me luck? Who or what is Piero?”

<Piero Joplin, a natural philosopher. The youngest ever to graduate from the Academy of Natural Philosophy. He has an intense rivalry with the head of the Academy, Anton Sokolov. He is the inventor of the Remedy anti-virus software that has been used to slow the spread of the Plague, though does not eradicate it. An eccentric figure who once ran a colleague out of the Academy by defeating him in a coin toss.>

Corvo winced. “Great,” he muttered. “Philosophers.” He stepped into the room, and looked around. Havelock, he remembered Havelock, was standing beside a scrawny man with small rounded glasses, who was gesturing widely. “I  _ hate _ Philosophers.”

He watched for a second before walking up to join Havelock and Piero, bracing himself for Sokolov-like exuberance. Havelock saw him first, and he stepped away from Piero to clap Corvo on the shoulder. “Ah, Corvo! You’re awake,” he said, as Corvo staggered a little under the force of Havelock’s greeting. “We were getting worried, when you didn’t emerge yesterday. But, I suppose you needed your rest.”

Corvo had to bite back his first three responses to that, instead settling on a non-committal, “I was exhausted.”

“Of course you were, of course you were,” Havelock said, and Corvo got the distinct impression that he wasn’t really listening. “Piero, this is Corvo, your new patient. He has a number of illegal mods, and they may need some maintenance.”

The idea of letting a stranger work on his mods made nausea well up under his sternum and Corvo took a quick step back. “The mods are fine,” he said hastily. “Just give me some of a Remedy, and I’ll be fine.”

Havelock frowned, looking Corvo over. “You should really be seen by a Philosopher, Corvo,” he said, clearly disapproving. “What if your mods fail, out in the field?”

Corvo stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest. “You haven’t even told me what you want me to do,” he pointed out. 

“Ah.” Havelock gestured to the ruined buildings around them, in an expansive sweeping motion. “We want to fix this,” he said. “What Burrows is doing is wrong. No one here believes you killed Jessamine, Corvo. We want to help you prove it.”

Corvo snorted softly, looking away. “I did,” he said. “I did kill her.” The look on Havelock’s face clearly stated he didn’t expect that response, and the dawning uncertainty made Corvo’s guts twist with guilt. “I’ll help you,” he said. “It’s the least I owe Jessamine and Emily.”

Piero took that moment to insert himself between them. “Corvo,” he greeted. “I'm Piero Joplin, natural philosopher and nanite specialist,” he introduced. “I'll be the one who can upgrade your gear- not your Augments, necessarily,  _ please _ don't look alarmed.”

Corvo shook his head, still feeling out of sorts. “It's no offense to you,” he explained. “I've had enough of people tinkering with my body. If anything goes wrong, I'll come to you.”

“Of course,” Piero said. “Allow me to show you what I've been working on in the meantime.”

Corvo was dubiously impressed by some of the things Piero brought out, starting with the sword. It folded and unfolded with a flick of his wrist, and at the hilt was a small button he could press to electrify the blade. “It will stun and incapacitate Augments,” Piero explained as Corvo tested out the swing and the heft. “It will also kill, electrified or not. And don't touch the blade.”

Corvo gave him an unimpressed look. “I won't.”

He set the blade aside in time to take the body armor handed to him. It was sleeker than his old Protector coat, closer fitting and heavy. “This is ablated modified ceramic armor,” Piero rattled off. “There are nanites in the weave of the cloth, which will auto-mend any tears or holes.”

Corvo lifted a brow, running his fingers over the fabric. “Did nanites suddenly become legal while I was… gone?” he wondered.

Piero rubbed the back of his head. “... No.”

He reevaluated his first opinion of Piero, and placed the Armor on the table. “You do good work,” he said.

Piero smiled, and handed over the last thing in the box. “This is my crowning achievement,” he said, as Corvo turned it over in his hands. It was a mask, with adjustable magnification in the eyes, made of twisted metal and cloth. “This mask is powered by a small, simple VI, called H.E.A.R.T., and it can run multiple programs to help you on your… adventures. I designed the HUD to be as user-friendly as possible, I assure you.”

Corvo put the mask on, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the HUD. 

Automatically the VI targeted the soft places on both Piero and Havelock, lighting up their head, chest and thighs in red light. [Welcome, my Host] H.E.A.R.T. wrote across the bottom of the HUD in green light. 

<I think not,> the Outsider whispered, and the message disappeared. A second later a new one popped onto the screen.

[Welcome, User:Corvo_Attano] the new message said. [Downloading new H.E.A.R.T. parameters now. Please do not remove the mask.]

<Better,> the VI muttered.

[Download complete,] H.E.A.R.T. informed him. [Apply new changes, User:Corvo_Attano? Y/N.]

“Uh,” Corvo said. “Sure?” 

The HUD went black for a second before rebooting. The HUD was unchanged, still lighting up the best places to attack a human, and writing scrawled along the bottom, erasing the last thing H.E.A.R.T. had said. [Activate Audio Mode, User:Corvo_Attano?]

“Activate Audio mode,” Corvo agreed carelessly. He tugged off the mask, and put it on top of the Armor. “This is fancier than anything I ever had as Lord Protector,” he said.

Piero nodded. “The mask itself has an audio dampening field,” he said, pointing out the small chip near the bottom of the mask. “This way if you have to speak to H.E.A.R.T, you won’t be alerting every guard in an area. But you can turn it off with your thumb print, if you need to speak to anyone while still wearing it. Does it fit well?” Piero asked. “I can adjust it as needed.”

“No, it’s fine. It fits well. It’ll just take getting used to the VI.”

Adjusting his glasses, Piero patted the mask gently. “H.E.A.R.T. can help you find out of the way paths, target your enemies for you, and zoom in up to five times magnification. It should come in handy, and be as unobtrusive as possible.”

He especially liked that the audio dampening field was in effect, allowing him to speak to both H.E.A.R.T. and the Outsider. 

Piero nodded. “I also have several other weapons, but they’re relatively normal, as compared to what you used to use. Go get something to eat, and come back in an hour. I’ll have all the final adjustments complete and you’ll be able to leave immediately after.”

“Leave?” Corvo asked, looking over at the silent Havelock. 

Clapping his hand on Corvo’s shoulder again, Havelock led Corvo out of the workshop and back into the Bar. “We have your first target,” Havelock said seriously. “We already know that Burrows was behind everything, whatever it is you remember of the day Jessamine died, but he was backed by High Overseer Thaddeus Campbell. Wherever they’ve taken Emily, he will have the information stored on his Tablet, his infamous Black Book.” 

“You want me to kill him,” Corvo echoed hollowly. A sick feeling of remembered fear welled up behind his throat, strangling the rest of his voice away.

Havelock shrugged, entirely unconcerned. “I want you to get rid of him,” he agreed. “And, on your way through Holger Square, there’s another target I need you to deal with. There’s an Overseer, his name is Teague Martin, he’s a friend, and a contact. I lost touch with him four days ago, and I need you to either retrieve him, or find his remains.”

Corvo swallowed past a hard lump in his throat. He nodded once, unable to respond verbally. 

“Without the High Overseer in his corner, we’ll take away the political leverage he has there, allowing us to influence the Feast of Painted Kettles.” Havelock patted his shoulder again. “I’ll leave you to eat something. Lydia! Our guest is hungry!”

He wasn’t, but he smiled at Lydia anyway. As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen and Havelock went upstairs, he dropped his head on the bar. “Well, this is… terrible,” he muttered. “What was that, by the way?” he asked the Outsider. “With the VI, H.E.A.R.T.?”

<I wished to make it more user-friendly, and less like a repeat of myself.>

“You’re both VIs,” Corvo pointed out, without moving his head from the bar. “But I don’t really think I could get you two mixed up.”

The VI just hummed, filling his head with a buzzing feeling.

He lifted his head from the table, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t want to kill him,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t ever want to kill anyone, ever again.”

<To kill, or be merciful is a choice only you can make, my Host,> the Outsider said.

“How else could I ‘get rid’ of Campbell if not by killing him?” Corvo asked pointedly. “It’s not like I can kidnap him.”

<Accessing Abbey records,> the Outsider murmured. <Records accessed. Relevant files found: one. Heretic’s Brand, The. The Heretic’s Brand is used to excommunicate an Overseer, regardless of rank. By branding a visible portion of skin, usually the face, Overseers can mark a fellow as a heretic, forcing them from the Abbey, and even from Dunwall itself. It is treated with chemicals that keep it ready for use at a moment’s notice.>

“Where can that be found?”

<It is kept at the ready in the interrogation room.>

Corvo made a face, rubbing his forehead with his good hand. “Of course it is. It’s always interrogation rooms, isn’t it? Seen enough of those for my life time.” 

He quieted down as Lydia came back into the room, and he ate what she put in front of him without really tasting it. He’s not all that successful in schooling his expression because Lydia hurries out of the room again, and Corvo sighs. “I’m afraid,” he admits, looking down at his empty plate instead of the mirror across from the bar. 

<A natural response, considering past traumas.>

Corvo shook his head, a rough denial. “I was a soldier,” he protested. “I shouldn’t fear the blade they gave me.”

<A soldier has nothing to fear but death on an enemy’s blade,> the Outsider told him. <The Overseers would not be so kind if you were caught. Therefore, I suggest you don’t get caught.>

He snorted. “You’re a regular ray of sunshine, did you know that, Outsider?” Corvo asked, caught between annoyance and amusement. 

<I am merely impressing upon you alternate solutions to your problems,> the Outsider huffed. <Know that you have abilities beyond the realm of the Purist regime, and with my aid, beyond even other Augments. If you use these to your advantage, my Host, your likelihood of capture and my subsequent decommission are drastically decreased.>

“I don’t know if you’ve realized but I don’t know how to do half the things you say I can do,” Corvo said quietly. “We have some time before we have to go. Can you show me?”

<Certainly, my Host.>

A ghostly image of Corvo, seen from the side, flexed his prosthetic hand, before thrusting it at an opponent. A tingling surge of power gathered in his own palm as lightning soundlessly branched out from the false Corvo’s hand. The ghostly opponent convulsed violently and fell to the ground. The simulation ended at the enemy’s apparent death. The tingling sensation faded.

Corvo looked down at his hand in shock. “Is that something  _ you _ gave me, or the hand itself?” he wondered. “I can’t imagine the City Watch would have given me something like this knowing I could kill them if I got free.”

<I have adapted the augmentations you received to maximize their potential, yes,> the Outsider said.

“Thank you,” Corvo said, a little wondering. He flexed his prosthetic hand. “It’s become fairly clear to me that I wouldn’t survive very long without you.” Looking around him, he realized he was still out in the open and his shoulders itched with tension. He left his plate where it was, and turned, heading back up the stairs to the room he’d been given. “Now that I don’t have to worry about being overheard,” he said, sitting on the end of the bed. “What else can you show me?”

<You already know your increased speed and agility,> the Outsider explained. <Do try to remember the laws of physics when you utilise them.>

Another simulation of Corvo appeared, then blurred across the room to smack face-first into the wall, in a rather comical way.

<There are also data caches left hidden around Dunwall by Augments. They’ll contain information and programs that allow you to make the most of your prosthetics, perhaps giving you other, more powerful abilities.>

Corvo snorted. “I promise I’ll try not to hit any walls,” he said. He laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Outsider?” he asked. “Could you… You can access the Net, and files. Can you find her? Emily?”

<The current location of Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin is not included in any public records.>

He sighed. “It was worth a shot.” He rubbed his eyes for a second. “Fine. Okay. Can you download the plans to Holger Square? And give me a list of all known Overseer Captains?”

<Accessing. Sending to Mask VI. Sent.>

“You’re nicely efficient,” Corvo said. “I… sort of assumed there would be more of a download lag time. The VI at the Tower was… not like you.”

<I have access to all records at all times, and you are the only one accessing me,> the Outsider said. <The Tower VI was constantly in use by hundreds of people at all times. A delay was to be expected.>

Corvo thought about it for a second before nodding. “Fair enough,” he said. “Is there anything I need to know before I go back down there?”

<I have optimized the route, but many factors depend on starting point and patrol changes. I will send you the best route once you have arrived in the area.>

“You can reassess once we arrive, can’t you?” Corvo asked. “Or as things happen?”

<Of course, my Host,> the Outsider said. <It is best, however, to be forewarned.>

Corvo nodded. “Good enough for me,” he said. “I trust you.” He stood up from the bed, heading back down toward the Workshop. 

He’d wasted enough time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to us on Tumblr!
> 
> [Dreabean!](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) & [Troodon!](http://wittyusernamed.tumblr.com/)

John Clavering Boulevard was nothing like he remembered. Most of the shops had closed up entirely, windows boarded up, or covered over with metal riot shields. There was refuse everywhere, and the slightly sour smell of unwashed bodies permeated the air. Corvo swept his eyes across the road, catching on a the forms of a few people in a small alcove.

He re-attuned his ears, listening to them complain about the Bottle Street Gang, and he slipped up to the corner.

Two men stood smoking cigarettes, and even without his enhanced eyesight or the mask he wore, he could tell they were Augments. “Nice mask,” one commented, nodding to him. “Don’t rightly blame you for it, considering. Word of advice friend?” he said, eyes lingering on Corvo’s left hand. “Stay away from the apartment on the end of the block. Granny Rags lives there, and you don’t want to mess with her.”

Corvo grunted, nodding back. “Thanks,” he said.

It was immediately apparent which apartment building they were talking about, as he continued down the street. An old woman stood on a balcony, throwing trash off the ledge, and Corvo could see several cleaning drones underneath, rapidly picking up her leavings. Corvo activated the Augments in his legs, clearing the rest of the street and landing safely away from the drones. He’d learned his lesson in the tunnels below Coldridge.

He turned back to see if the old woman had seen him and found himself face to face with her. Corvo leapt back, hand going for his sword and the old woman smiled. “Now, now, dearie,” she said, peering at him with fogged over eyes. “There’s no need for that, Granny Rags isn’t here to hurt you. I’m trying to feed my little birdies, and I need a strong gentleman’s help.”

Corvo’s throat locked up. [Your heart rate is 37 beats above the recommended resting limit, User:Corvo_Attano,] H.E.A.R.T. said helpfully.

“Um,” he said, forcing sound out. “What do you need me to do?”

Granny Rags’ smile widened. “There are some gentleman callers who are _very_ rude and disruptive to my little birdies. Get rid of them and I’ll have a present for you, my black-eyed groom.” She reached out, lightning fast and caught his prosthetic hand in hers, fingers hovering over the port in the wrist. “Don’t wait too long or they’ll catch you too.” She turned and ambled away, disappearing into the door to her apartment.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Corvo said with feeling. He rubbed his prosthetic hand where she’d touched it. It felt like her fingerprints had sunk into the metal, but he could discern no change in the appendage.

[Three Enemy Assailants are 132 feet away, User:Corvo_Attano,] H.E.A.R.T. chimed in, and he activated his Augments almost without thinking about it.

He ended up on the same metal balcony he’d first seen Granny Rags on, overshooting by several feet and skidding into the room. The room was just as unsettling as its owner, dark and gloomy with an overturned rowboat sitting in the middle of it, for no available reason.

Corvo eyed the door for a second, switching his sight to see thermal imaging, but seeing no one in the house at all. “What the _fuck_ ,” he said again.

“Hey!” a gruff voice said from outside. “Open up, Granny! We ain’t gonna hurt you!”

Creeping closer, he hunkered down into the shadows to look over the side of the Balcony. Three Bottle Street Thugs were just under his feet, distinctive for their metal hands and the bottles by their sides. “Outsider?” Corvo asked. “Can I incapacitate all three with one electric blast, or do I need to use three separate ones?”

<There is only enough power to incapacitate one at a time,> the Outsider said, then immediately retreated back into the back of his mind.

Making a mental note to check in on the VI, Corvo looked around himself and found an empty bottle in the corner. He picked it up and tested its weight in his hand, tossing it over the edge of the balcony and off down the street.

“What the fuck was that?” one of the thugs said, and he watched carefully as they left the front of the door behind and broke out into a search formation.

H.E.A.R.T. helpfully stretched invisible lines between them, calculating the distances they moved away from each other. As soon as one was a farther distance from the others, Corvo leapt down on silent feet and slid up behind him.

A standard Tyvian choke hold was the first thing the Guard had taught him when he’d arrived in Dunwall so many years ago. It was child’s play to render the thug unconscious, hoisting him up over his shoulder and dashing back to his place on the balcony.

Down to two, Corvo liberated the bottle off the thug’s belt, he chucked it into the street, watching the second thug wheel around to investigate.

Corvo wait for two full breaths before dashing down and landing behind the thug. That one offered him no more trouble than the first, and Corvo let him fall to the street, stepping around him, and calling up the alien feeling of electricity in his hand.

One step, another, and he let the Augment loose.

The last thug jerked and twitched in place, falling to the cobblestones, electricity running through him.

It was quick work to gather up their unconscious bodies, tossing them in the dumpster and closing the lid over their heads. He dashed up to the balcony again, to collect the last thug only to find Granny Rags crouched over him.

Corvo, like the first time he’d seen the old woman, froze.

Granny Rags reached out and patted the thug’s face almost fondly. “Thank you dearie,” she said, her head tilting at a grotesque angle to look at Corvo. “Just what my birdies were hungry for.”

As she spoke, a hoard of red-lit drones came out of the darkness under the boat, making a beeline for the unconscious and helpless thug. “Wait!” Corvo rasped out, reaching for the thug before Granny Rags pinned him with a quelling look.

In the swarming lights of the infected drones, her milky eyes looked bright with blood. “Now, now, my black-eyed groom,” she cooed. “We mustn’t anger the birdies, or else we might be next.” She stood up, and the infected drones parted around her feet as she walked over to Corvo, who found himself rooted in place.

He swallowed hard, panic and fear crawling up his spine and turning his muscles to lead. [Your heart rate is 52 beats above the recommended limit,] H.E.A.R.T. told him.

Granny Rags reached out and patted his mask. “One last thing, dearie,” she said, the pauses in her sentence punctuated by the chewing sounds of the cleaning drones behind her. “I have a gift for you. And a request.” Her tone made it clear that it was not a request.

“What is that, exactly?” Corvo asked, his throat clicking hard.

She smiled again. “This is for giving my birdies such a filling and delicious meal,” she said, and produced a data stick out of thin air. She tucked it into his front pocket, eyes never leaving the mask. “This,” she said, producing another stick, “is for Slackjaw. Just slip this into their network, my black-eyed groom, and come back to me.”

Corvo blinked at it. “What does it do?” he asked.

The chewing sound increased in volume, and then died abruptly. Granny Rags curled his fingers around the data stick. “It gives them a taste of their own medicine,” she said, and took a step back.

The red lights of the infected drones turned as one to him, and then faded slowly back into the shadows from whence they came. When he looked up again, the body, Granny Rags, and any sign of the drones were gone.

Corvo tightened his grip on the data stick, feeling it dig painfully into his hand. He fled.

*

He found himself on a different balcony several buildings away from Granny Rags. “What the fuck,” he said, dropping the data stick onto the ground. “What _the fuck_. Outsider, what the - what is - what the fuck was that?!”

<...Query unclear,> the Outsider said, sounding smaller and farther away than usual.

Wrestling down his panic and focusing inward, Corvo took two deep breaths to slow his heart rate - still too high, according to H.E.A.R.T. - and his breathing. “Sorry,” he said, chest still tight. “Who is Granny Rags? That can’t be her legal name. What records of her are there?”

<...Data not found.>

Corvo pulled a face, sitting heavily on the ground. “Right. Of course. That would be easy. Okay, second query then: Why didn’t those drones eat her too? Or me, for that matter? The others attack randomly and without a care.”

<Data not found.>

“Data not fou- what do you mean data not found?” Corvo asked. “There has to be something you can tell me about what just happened.”

<There are no records to be found of the entity called Granny Rags. Facial recognition failed. Vocal recognition failed. Granny Rags does not exist. Avoid the entity called Granny Rags.>

“Yeah I sort of guessed that after she let a bunch of infected drones _eat a man_ ,” Corvo said. He fished the data stick she’d given him out of his pocket. “Fine. New query: what does this data stick do, I’m not putting it anywhere near me if you can’t tell me.”

<Recommend using a remote terminal to access data, therefore minimizing risk of infection from Plague or other viruses.>

He made a shallow gesture towards the stick on the floor. “I’m going to guess that one actively carries the Plague, then.” He paused for a moment, catching his breath. “Are you alright, Outsider?”

<I am functional.>

Corvo frowned. He hadn’t had this VI for more than a handful of days and he could already tell something wasn’t right. “Did she do something to you? Was there a field or something that I walked into that hurt you? You uh… don’t sound quite right.”

<Data not found.>

He opened his mouth, then closed it, at a loss. “If… you’re sure?” he finally settled on. “I should seek out Slackjaw. What’s the best way to get there without running into any of his minions?”

A HUD appeared in the mask. Dots apparently indicating hostiles blinked into being, though none nearby, luckily. A route appeared, heading towards the north.

Corvo hauled himself to his feet, picking up the data stick and shoving it in a different pocket. He made his way to the edge of the balcony, still feeling a bit sick and shaky, but he activated his Augments and moved from the broken down wire edge to the roof across the alley.

The HUD led him over the roofs to the very edge of the Old Distillery Factory that had long since been converted to a mechanical warehouse that defied both gravity and imagination. There was a guard, of course there was, and Corvo leaned over the edge of the room to catch his measure. “What can you tell me about him?” he wondered out loud, speaking to the Outsider.

<He was a mud lark until twelve,> the Outsider said, <sifting through muck until he could hold a knife. Armed with knife and pyrotechnic Augments.>

Corvo chewed his lip. “Well,” he said. “Here goes nothing.” He jumped down off the roof, his leg Augments kicking in automatically, and he landed lightly. The thug leapt back, hand going for the bottle but Corvo held his hands up in the universal sign for surrender. “I need to speak to Slackjaw,” he said. “I have a message for him.”

The thug narrowed his eyes. “From who?”

“From Granny Rags,” Corvo answered.

Recoiling away, the thug sneered. “You wait here,” he growled, metallic throat glowing with barely repressed heat. “I’ll talk to the boss.”

The thug disappeared into the Warehouse yard and Corvo leaned against one of the walls. “I was only a little sure that would work,” he commented. “But it got the point across.” The guard was only gone for a moment or two, and when he returned, his face had soured for sure, and he was obviously unarmed.

“You,” he growled. “With me.”

Gamely, Corvo followed after him, not speaking. They crossed the yard together, as the HUD kindly updated the positions of the other thugs, showing him how well they had surrounded him. H.E.A.R.T. began showing him possible escape routes in the corner of his HUD and Corvo forced himself to focus on not running into his escort.

A vaguely familiar man stood at the entrance to the old Distillery, and Corvo recognized Slackjaw from his Wanted posters. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his expression was blatantly disapproving. “Why the fuck,” the mob boss said, “is Granny Rags sending me any kind of message, hmm?”

Corvo fished the data stick out of his pocket, double checking to make sure it wasn’t the one she had called his ‘present’. “I think the message had more to do with me killing you,” he said, holding it out to the guard next to him. “She wanted me to download this into your System. I decided that gains me - us - nothing. The data stick, as a gesture of my goodwill.”

Slackjaw stared at him for a long second, metal throat gleaming in the evening light. “Right,” he drawled. “Say that I believe you. What’s in it for you, Mystery Mask?”

“I need to get into Holger Square,” he said blandly. “Being able to move about John Clavering without running afoul of your men will help the process.”

Stroking his fingers over his mustache, Slackjaw regarded Corvo with an unreadable expression. “No one’s ever broken into Holger Square.”

“First time for everything,” Corvo retorted, shrugging. “I’m going to attempt it with or without your help.”

Slackjaw nodded slowly and jerked his head. “Come on in,” he said, and when he smiled he revealed metal teeth. “I can see we have a lot to talk about.”

Corvo fell into step beside him, and they walked through a surprisingly expansive courtyard before going up into the Old Distillery Warehouse. The building was entirely fitted with reflective surfaces, holograms of various things floating around them.

He faltered only once, as soon as Slackjaw brought him around a corner into a side hall, and a cleaning drone - blessedly normal - zipped across their path, chasing the burned out end of a cigar. Slackjaw stepped around it like he was used to it, Corvo had to stop himself from activating his Augments and ending up on the ceiling.

Oblivious to Corvo’s internal struggle, Slackjaw led him to a small back area, where old barrells still lined the walls. “So,” he said, tossing the data stick up and down. “If I plug this into anything, it’ll give everyone and everything the Plague, is that right?”

“Well I didn’t exactly test out,” Corvo said. “She gave me the data stick, told me to slip it into your network and give you a taste of your own medicine. I didn’t stay to ask questions, after that.” He was glad for the Mask, because he knew his voice gave away his unease, he couldn’t only imagine what his face was doing.

“You could have easily infected everything in this building,” Slackjaw said. “What stopped you?”

Corvo tilted his head to the side. “Is that a serious question?” he asked. “Why would I knowingly spread the plague?”

Slackjaw shrugged. “Dunno, mate. Why would you kill the Empress Jessamine?” The question came so abruptly that Corvo froze, his limbs flooded with panic. Slackjaw tilted his head towards the doorway that they’d come through. “DNA reader,” he said, unapologetic.

With his identity laid bare, there was no reason for the Mask. Corvo slipped it off, putting it carefully down on the table between them. “I don’t know,” he answered Slackjaw. “I don’t remember.” Words scattered across his mind, and he shook his head. “Whatever the reason… I didn’t start the Plague, and I don’t intend to spread it. And I’m… working on fixing it.”

“Hm.” Slackjaw’s eyes dragged over his face, and he tossed the data stick onto the desk. “I expected you to deny it.”

“Why bother?” Corvo asked. “You already knew who I was. You’re not a fool.”

“Yeah,” Slackjaw said. “You really want to break into Holger Square?”

The real answer was no, he didn’t want to do any such thing. Since escaping Coldridge however, most of his choices have been defined for him and he was willing to bet that any deviation from Havelock’s careful plans will result in retribution that he absolutely did not want aimed at him. “I do,” he said.

“You are sixteen kinds of crazy, my friend,” Slackjaw said. “I can get some of my boys to make a fuss,” he added. “You’d have to be ready to go as soon as they did, of course.”

Corvo nodded. “I broke out of Coldridge,” he said flatly. “I can move fast when I need to.”

That made Slackjaw laugh, though it was tinged in disbelief. “You are one insane motherfucker,” he said, and clapped Corvo on the shoulder. “The Bottle Street Network owes you,” he added, more seriously. “You could have fucked me hard with that data stick. Give me an hour, I’ll get the men ready. Feel free to wander, there’s food in one of the kitchens if you’re hungry.”

“Sure, thank you.” Corvo watched Slackjaw swagger out of the small office and immediately turned to one of the terminals on the wall, pulling out the second data stick. He plugged it into the port, and opened the file it pulled up on the screen.

It was a .exe file, named a string of nonsense that Corvo couldn’t quite parse until he opened the attachment that went along with it. _O_P_01_Puppeteer_001.exe_ , he read quickly. What followed was a dense tutorial on how to use the Augment, which seemed to boil down to using his prosthetic arm’s electricity power to take over small electronics, bending them to his will for a small duration of time.

Buried in the dense text of the Read Me, though was a disturbing message that made Corvo’s breath come short again, remembering Granny Rags milky red eyes in the dark.

 _Enjoy your new power, dearie_ the message said. _Little puppet on a string, cannot stop a single thing_ …

Clicking away from the Read Me caused it to close all on its own, leaving him with the Prompt to execute the File, Yes/No?

Taking a deep breath, Corvo clicked Yes.

 _lease insert into appropriate appendage to begin Download process_ , the .exe file told him and autoclosed a second later.

He tugged out the data stick, turning over his left hand and looking down at the port where he could insert it. The terminal had read the entire thing and found it clean of the Plague, but Corvo didn’t trust Granny Rags as far as he could throw her.

However, being able to control small electronics could be… useful. Especially the drones, and security systems, of which there were many around Holger Square.

Corvo inserted the data stick, and his arm went leaden and dead as the small computer inside the prosthetic began downloading the new program.

“Hey Outsider?” Corvo called, gently rousing the dormant program. “Once this is finished, can you show me how to use it, like you did before?”

There was no warning this time. One moment his prosthetic was dormant, the next it fired up and coursed with energy. It felt like when blood rushed back into a numb limb.

<Aim your prosthetic at the cleaning drone,> the Outsider instructed.

“Oh sure, now you answer me,” he muttered, and had to turn around to find it, once again curbing his general sense of unease at finding the drone just behind him.

He paused, waiting to see if the Outsider had any reply, but when there was no response forthcoming, Corvo just sighed and did as it had bid him.

The air rippled as his prosthetic sent a pulse of energy at the drone. There was a sickening moment of extreme disorientation and he found himself looking at a familiar pair of shoes. Corvo looked up to see his body peering at his hands with a vaguely puzzled expression.

“Well, this was unexpected,” What could only be the Outsider said. The VI looked down at Corvo, wobbling drunkenly with the movement. “Hello, Corvo.”

Corvo went to speak and found he had no mouth - a distressed sort of beeping filled the room and he reached out to go back to his own body, succeeding only in running the drone into his shoe multiple times. He did _not_ like the way the drone only barely responded to his movement commands, and Corvo’s distress rose exponentially as time passed and nothing happened.

He shoved the drone into his shoe with more force, the distressed beeping getting louder.

“I wonder if you will be trapped forever like this,” the Outsider mused, staring impassively down at Corvo. “Though I do not believe I quite enjoy being in control of your body. It’s very limiting.”

Outraged, Corvo rolled backward to gain momentum and almost as soon as he did so, the world twisted sideways in a stomach dropping whirl and he found himself on his ass on the floor warehouse. The drone sat by his foot, camera dark and dead. “What. The fuck,” Corvo said.

<I believe we’ve discovered what the new program can do,> the Outsider said, now back in the recesses of Corvo’s mind.

“You can use my body,” Corvo said, a little numb. “What would happen if something… if I died, or if the drone I was… riding… was crushed? Would I come back to you? Or…” He didn’t want to think about that - a rogue VI inside a human mind? - but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Why is the drone dead?” he asked, when the Outsider didn’t immediately begin speaking.

<It is run on a simple program,> it informed him. <A simplistic design like the cleaning drones cannot handle the stress put upon it by a human mind, which is infinitely more complex. The catastrophic failure is likely what forced you out and back to your own body.>

“Yeah, that’s not alarming at all,” Corvo murmured, climbing to his feet. He moved the drone out of the middle of the hall with one foot. “Let’s leave that specific Augment for emergency only,” he added. “Suddenly becoming a drone was… not fun.”

<Suddenly finding myself having to remember to breathe, balance, and stand was also rather uncomfortable,> the VI said. It almost sounded distasteful.

Corvo snorted. “Breathing is autonomic, at least,” he offered.

<It is not when you are unfamiliar with the process,> it snipped.

Rolling his eyes, Corvo went back to the terminal to log himself out the rest of the way, deleting any sign of his tampering, and making sure the .exe file folder had closed. “Well, now you know,” he commented. “If I ever have to do this again, you can at least move me - us? - to safety if required.”

<I am unsure of my mastery of legs,> the VI said, dubiously.

Thinking it over and ticking the pros and cons in his head, Corvo finally said, “Well. Once we get back to the Pub, we can… practice.”

<Of course, my Host.>

“Sound more enthusiastic, Outsider,” Corvo said dryly, and reached for his mask.

<I am a VI, my Host,> it said. <I am incapable of true emotion.>

Corvo fixed the mask back on under his hood, taking refuge in the audio dampener installed. “You’re also a VI that ran away from its creators and learned how to live inside a complex human brain. You’ve clearly become some sort of learning system. I bet you could learn how to at least emulate emotion,” he said. “Though keep in mind my VI/AI technical knowledge is about six years out of date and I was never very good in school.”

<Self-preservation and adaptability are hardly emotions.>

“No, they aren't. But they also aren't things that VIs are taught either,” Corvo pointed out. “Besides, if you learn to breathe through me, perhaps my human mind will infect yours, and you can experience ‘true’ emotion through me.”

<Perhaps,> it conceded.

“I am glad you're feeling better though,” Corvo said quietly. “Thank you, for continuing to help me.” He stepped out of the office and made his way to the warehouse. “Ready?” he asked.

<Always, my Host.>

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we earn our E rating! Hang on to your butts.

“Don't worry about my men,” Slackjaw said. “You do your thing, and they'll do theirs. Let me know you aren't dead.” Slackjaw tipped his hat and strolled to the head of the crowd of thugs, and as one unit they charged.

The portion of John Clavering that led to Holger Square lit up in flames and the sound of shattered glass as the thugs swarmed the guards.

H.E.A.R.T. immediately began tracking their movements, and he slipped around the worst of the chaos, sinking down and using the shadows created by flames to hide. 

He reached the door with little issue, and slipped through, throwing the bolt behind him. He'd have to find a different exit but at least it meant he wouldn't be followed. After a warning from the HUD, Corvo ducked behind some crates, as several Overseers ran past him, guns at the ready. 

“Brothers!” an unfamiliar voice shouted. “The Bottle Street Gang has finally shown their true colours, as degenerates and infidels! Their Augments can be beaten, show no fear in the face of abominations such as they, and fight for the cleansing of Dunwall!” 

Corvo rolled his eyes, safely hidden in the darkness as the main entrance to Holger Square opened with a loud, grinding noise. He couldn’t see the Overseers anymore, not from his position, but he could see a man in the middle of the Square, hands in magnetized shackles and stretched out to either side of him. His head lolled down dangerously, and Corvo blinked once to turn on his thermal imaging Augment, looking for anyone or anything that would indicate they weren’t alone.

“Outsider,” he murmured, safe in the knowledge that his Mask blocked his sound. “Is that Martin? The man Havelock asked us to find?”

<Facial scans match the image provided by Admiral Havelock, it is indeed our insider informant for the Loyalist conspiracy,> the VI said after a beat.

Corvo nodded, and crept forward, halting just before exiting the shadows. “This is probably a really bad idea,” he said, more to himself than to the Outsider, and stood.

<There is a 47% chance of capture and death,> the Outsider agreed. Or perhaps warned. It was difficult to tell without any inflection in its ‘voice’.

Just before stepping out into the light, Corvo paused again. “What did I tell you about mentioning my odds?” he hissed, outraged. “I’m starting to think you do these things on  _ purpose _ .”

<Apologies,> it said, meekly. <You seemed to be prompting me for confirmation. Would you like me to reset my variables?>

Alarmed, Corvo shook his head. “What? No! That’s not what I meant at all! I don’t want you to reset anything. Alright? No resetting.”

<Acknowledged, my Host.> If a VI could be capable of emotion, Corvo would think it sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Good. Thank you.” Corvo sighed, and resolved to check in with the VI after everything was over. He stepped into the light, his footfalls soft on the damp pavement. Martin didn’t move, nor did he react as Corvo’s shadow fell over him. 

He stood there for another second, before kneeling down in front of Martin, chewing on his lip. Training with the guards at the Tower had taught him never to wake a sleeping guard - he was pretty certain the same went for unconscious Overseers. Thumbing off the audio dampener, Corvo cleared his throat gently. “Teague Martin?” he asked, modulating his voice to be soft and unassuming. 

Martin heaved a sigh, magnetic shackles humming as he moved. “If you’re here to remind me about my many ‘sins’, don’t bother. I’ve heard it all before, and frankly, it’s getting rather old.”

“I don’t really care about your sins,” Corvo said honestly. “Admiral Havelock sent me.”

That brought Martin’s head up, eyes wide in the half light of the Square. “Corvo?” he asked and behind the mask, Corvo grimaced.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Overseer,” he said dryly. 

“Not an Overseer anymore,” Martin grunted. “But I’m happy to see you nevertheless. Now, you going to let me out, or do I have to ask nicely?” Martin smirked, watching Corvo with sharp eyes.

Corvo blinked twice. “Um,” he said, feeling awkward and wondering if Martin knew  _ exactly  _ how that sounded, before deciding he didn’t want to know. “Right. Sorry.” He walked around the dais to the terminal, typing the release command into the executive file. There was a hissing sound as the shackles released Martin, sending him to all fours.

When Corvo walked back over to him, the extensive damage done to Martin was immediately and explicitly apparent. Huge red weals covered his back from his neck down below the cut of his trousers, revealing divots and scar tissue. 

He’d seen wounds like that before - soldiers and elite guards from Serkonos frequently Augmented their backs and arms to use armoured exoskeleton suits, but Martin was lacking any of the neural transmitter ports.

The Overseers had clearly removed them, and they weren’t gentle about it, either.

Corvo crouched down again, offering Martin a hand without comment. After staring at him for a second, Martin took his good hand, and Corvo hauled him up, giving him all the time he needed to steady himself. “Will you be alright to get back to the Hound Pits Pub on your own?” Corvo asked, slightly concerned for the underweight and injured ex-Overseer.

“I may know a few, less-used shortcuts in this city,” Martin assured him. “Just have to shake off the stiffness from kneeling for so long.” Martin rolled his shoulders, grimacing.

“Of course,” Corvo said gently. “Take your time. The Bottle Street Gang will be keeping the Overseers busy for some time, I think,” he added. “And I’ll stay until you’re on your way. Do you require an Elixir of any kind? I have one of Sokolov's.” He didn’t add that the Elixir’s were mostly for people with Augments, but, considering that until recently Martin had been one, Corvo assumed he’d be able to use one without difficulty.

“My thanks.” Martin took the Elixir Corvo held out, downing it like a shot of whiskey and grimacing at the taste. “Void, does he make them taste like rotten whale piss on purpose?”

Corvo snorted, having wondered the same thing. “Yes,” he answered seriously, tilting his head to look at Martin. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Sokolov does everything to be as contrary as humanly possible.”

Throwing his head back, Martin let loose a bark of laughter. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it, having never met the man.” He flashed him a sideways grin before sobering. “I’ll be on my way now. You take care, Corvo. Campbell’s crafty sort. I hear he has a meeting with the Captain of the Watch tonight, about those killed Augment ladies. I also hear he’s got a plan to poison the man and put the blame on Augment extremists.”

“Poison Curnow?” Corvo repeated, alarmed. “Shit. Thank you, for telling me. Geoff is a good man, a good friend. Or… he was.” He decidedly did not think of his missing memories or how Curnow might have reacted to the news concerning Corvo murdering Jessamine. “Be careful,” he added. “I ran afoul of a few of the Infected drones on John Clavering.”

Martin paled. “Fuck. Those things are terrifying. I’ve seen what they do to the living, let alone corpses. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a drink when we get back to the Hound Pits as thanks. Couldn’t have gotten out of there without you.” 

Corvo nodded, tipping his head down. “Sure,” he said. “I’d like that. Good luck.” He watched as Martin picked his way across the courtyard, before he disappeared into the shadows by the exit. He sighed and turned away, heading in the opposite direction, activating his leg Augments almost without thinking and leaping gracefully from the ground to the stone pillar that made up part of the thick wall that cut off the courtyard from the rest of Holger Square.

He crouched there, finding the area mostly devoid of Overseers, except for a guard patrolling the front entranceway. Jumping down and dashing to the wall closest to the Abbey building, Corvo eyed an open window over his head. “Outsider,” he prompted. “Is there any way for me to use my Augments to climb up to that window?”

<I can redirect the power once more to your legs,> the VI mused. <You can exert enough force to jump up to it. The key is to catch the ledge on time.>

Corvo snorted. “This should be fun,” he muttered. Taking two steps back for leverage, he drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Do it.”

The familiar prickling sensation rolled down his legs as the Outsider overcharged his Augments. Corvo lept into the air, nearly overshooting the window entirely, before catching the sill and pulling himself inside.

He sat on the window ledge catching his breath, leaning his head back to move the mask away from his face enough for the cool night air to filter in. “Admit it,” he said to the Outsider, smiling, “You’re impressed.”

<Oh, indeed. Your feats of physical strength are very impressive, my dear Host,> the Outsider deadpanned.

“You know,” Corvo said, “I’m getting the distinct impression that you’re making fun of me.”

<I assure you, such humour and sarcasm are completely beyond a mere VI’s capabilities,> it responded.

Corvo laughed softly, getting to his feet and slipping into the first room he saw. “I’m also getting the impression that you are not a mere anything,” he said, before he realized exactly where he’d walked into. 

The room was cold and dark, a single flood light bearing down on an empty metal chair seated in the middle of the room. Its magnetized cuffs were depowered and open, and the stains of old blood on the floor ran in spirals around the drain. His breath caught in his chest, the muscles tightening so quickly and so much that his left arm - what was left of it - went numb. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

<Corvo, focus on my voice. They can’t hurt you, it’s just a chair and some sensory memories. Corvo, you need to breathe!> The voice was getting increasingly urgent.

Corvo choked on his next breath and pain flashed through him, as his skin suddenly registered lines of fire down his back. 

He flinched away from nothing and twisted, trying to free himself from invisible shackles. Everything got dark around the edges of his vision.

<I am sorry, my Host,> the voice said, <but this is for your own good.>

Corvo couldn't focus on the voice, couldn't focus on  _ anything _ , his back was torn to shreds by fire and ice, and every inch of his body ached with pain. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, he had to stay silent, anything else would be giving in, he  _ had to stay silent. _

Coloured dots filled what was left of his vision, and Corvo tried to breathe around the pain, but a hand was clenched too tightly around his throat. They were going to  _ kill _ him.

Suddenly Corvo was arching his back for an entirely different reason. Pleasure, so intense it was overriding everything else, flooded his system. Corvo choked on a whine as his legs gave out, his focus shifting to the white-hot pleasure-pain crackling down his spine to ground itself in his groin.

Then, as soon as it arrived, it was gone, leaving Corvo limp, trembling, and gasping for breath in the aftermath. He came back to himself on his knees before the interrogation chair, and Corvo's chest ached slightly with the force of his panting. “What was that?” he rasped out.

<The clinical term is sensory memory,> the Outsider said. <Your body was remembering what your mind did not.>

Corvo made an annoyed face. “That's not what I'm talking about,” he said, mulish and uncomfortable. “What did you do?”

<You were trapped in the memory.> If Corvo didn’t know better, he’d say the VI sounded defensive. <We couldn’t risk you being found, and you were resisting my attempts to rouse you from it, so I had to improvise a solution. A sensory hallucination had the highest percentage of success.>

Corvo digested that slowly, chewing on his lip. “Fine. Okay. It worked, clearly.” He heaved himself to his feet, and looked around the room, ignoring the chair at his feet. “This is the interrogation chamber,” he murmured. “That means the heretic’s mark is in here somewhere. Thoughts? Ideas? Concerns?”

<Would you like the probability of capture?> the VI asked innocently.

Corvo rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, there's a 43% chance of capture if I continue to spend time in this room,” he said dryly.

<I am attempting this human skill called ‘humour,> the Outsider said. <I am told it’s a contagious skill I may learn from you.>

Corvo barked a laugh. “It seems to be working,” he said, amused. He looked around the room, pointedly not looking at the chair before him. To his left, above where he knelt, a small room blocked in by bars caught his attention. “I need to jump up there,” he said, gesturing. 

<Rerouting power and plotting a course to lower the chance of overshoot your goal and getting concussed,> the Outsider replied. <I’d prefer not to see what happens to me if you receive brain damage.>

“Your confidence in me is  _ overwhelming _ ,” Corvo drawled. He stood slowly, testing out the feeling of growing power in his legs, and looked over the route the Outsider had planned for him.

<I am merely concerned for your continued well-being, my Host.>

“Uh huh,” Corvo drawled. He took two steps backward and dashed, using his forward momentum to leap up and hooked his left hand over the top of the bars. He hung there for an endless second before swinging himself up and over, landing heavily on the floor. “Ow,” he said, rotating his shoulder.

<An injury,> the VI said, <I am  _ shocked _ .>

“I can see I'm going to regret teaching you sass,” Corvo muttered, and turned his attention to the Brand.

It was a long stick of metal, with electric coils running all down its length. Closer examination of the brand at its head revealed a small Augment, likely transferred from Brand to flesh upon activation. It would both scar the face, and Mark an Overseer as an Augment, making him ineligible for candidacy and, with Burrows laws, unable to even hold property or be considered a functional part of Dunwall.

Campbell would be ousted, wholly and entirely. 

Corvo tightened his grip around the Brand, climbing back over the bars and dropping down into the main interrogation chamber. He put the Brand on the floor beside it, looked around and said, “Which way to Campbell?”

The now-familiar light traced a path out the door to the left.

<I suggest extreme caution, my Host,> the Outsider warned. <Though patrols are decreased due to the presence of the Bottle Street Gang, there are still Overseers between you and his meeting room. There are various ledges and chandeliers you can use to remain out of sight.>

“Understood. Thank you.” He slipped into the cell, pointedly not thinking of his own time in Coldridge, and used the chain hanging from the ceiling to haul himself up onto the ledge. “You know,” he said. “These ledges are really terrible from a security standpoint. Why are they even up here?”

<I was hoping it was a human thing, and you would be able to explain it to me,> the VI admitted.

“If the security chief wanted these things in the Tower, I'd have shot him on principle,” Corvo said, even as he moved along the ledges. “I've never been in this building before but, I really don't understand.”

<I assumed it was because of the strange human need to have an ‘aesthetic'.>

Corvo laughed softly as he moved through the hall, stopping above one of the security nodes. H.E.A.R.T. helpfully zoomed in on it, and Corvo studied the alarm with an experienced eye. “Hey, Outsider, what's the range on our electric pulse? Could I short out that system from here?”

<Your range is a maximum of four feet, or one-point-two-one-nine-two meters,> it told him, in its usual precise tones.

Corvo sighed. “Fine. What’s the range on our… Puppeteer ability? The one that put me in the drone.” He gestured to the security alarm. “We’ll need that off to make a clean getaway, I think.”

<It is the same, my Host.>

“Of course it is.” Looking down the hall both ways, Corvo leapt down gracefully and slipped over to the alarm. It was an easy hack job, and Corvo flew through the program as quickly as he was able. As soon as the alarm turned off, Corvo turned back and looked up at the ledge. Judging by it’s height, there was little way to get back up there, even with his enhanced abilities. 

The small beam of light led him straight into the doors to his right and Corvo slipped down the hall on silent feet, peering through the keyhole. The room  _ seemed _ empty, and he activated his Thermal Optics to double check. 

Nothing. 

Corvo pushed open the door, and stepped through, glad to be out of the open. There was an open window at one end of the room, and the nonsensical ledges around. The room seemed to be a library or a study, dominated by a large dining room table. There were chairs and shelves all around, making it easy to get back up into the ledges, but if his electric pulse was only four feet and some change, he’d have to be much closer to Campbell before using it. 

The table had a tray on it, several Serkonan grapes placed artfully around a bottle of expensive wine, with two large tumblers already poured. He reached out and picked one up, pushing up his mask to sniff it. He dipped a finger into the glass, watching the liquid roll down his prosthetic. “Is there any way to tell if this is the poison, Outsider?” Corvo asked.

<One moment, working,> the Outsider said. There was a buzz of servos working in his prosthetic and a hum between his ears. <There is a high amount of liquid cyanide dissolved in the wine. I suggest you refrain from letting it touch your skin, as it can get absorbed through touch.>

Corvo pulled a face, wiping his prosthetic on one of the cloth napkins provided by the tray. “Liquid cyanide? That’s just… sloppy. Geoff is no fool, he’ll taste that as soon as he drinks the wine.” 

<Hydrogen cyanide is an odourless, colourless, tasteless poison,> the Outsider said. <It was actually commonly used on whaling harpoons to rapidly kill the whale without damaging the meat too much. Geoff Curnow would have suffocated before he could even call for help. It is incredibly flammable.>

Curling his lip, Corvo pulled his mask back down and replaced the drink. “Of course it is. We’ll just have to make sure that Geoff never touches the stuff.”

As he spoke, H.E.A.R.T.’s proximity detector filled his HUD with warning symbols, and Corvo dropped into a crouch. The table was high and heavy, and Corvo fit under it without much fuss, despite his frame. [Two unknowns approaching, User:Corvo_Attano,] H.E.A.R.T. supplied helpfully, and he shushed it, watching the far door.

“... ow’s your niece? Callista, was it?” Campbell was asking, “I’m very concerned about her.”

Corvo frowned - he hadn’t realized that Geoff’s niece was missing. He made a mental note to ask Havelock to add her to the list of people to find. “She’ll be found,” Geoff said, as he opened the doors to the room. “My men are searching district by district. Callista is a resourceful girl, she probably found a safe place to hole up during all this chaos.”

Corvo winced, and made another note to tell Havelock about that.

As they entered the study, Corvo tensed, waiting for Campbell to come closer. “Time for drinks,” Campbell said clearly. “Surely you won’t refuse, it will make this business go all the faster.”

When Campbell walked up to the tray, Corvo struck. “Now,” he instructed the Outsider, stretching out his prosthetic.

A bolt of lightning arced from his prosthetic, grounding itself in Campbell. The man convulsed, before his eyes rolled back in his skull and he crumpled to the plush carpet. Curnow recoiled with a startled shout.

Corvo thumbed off the Audio Dampener, slipping out from under the table on the other side, keeping the heavy oak barrier between them. “I'm not here to hurt you,” he said evenly. “I'm here to save your life. Campbell was going to poison you.” He gestured with his flesh hand to the glass in front of Curnow.

“I'm supposed to believe that?” Curnow demanded, sounding so skeptical that Corvo grinned. 

“You don't have much choice, do you?” He pointed out. “Can't take the chance I'm right. Besides, Callista sent me.” A lie, but Geoff would believe it if it meant his niece was alive. 

“Callista?” Geoff demanded. “She's alright?”

Guilt curled around his stomach but Corvo nodded once. “She's laying low, hiding from all the nonsense out there. You should get to safety, Captain Curnow. The city will need you more than ever.” 

Geoff’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do to Campbell?”  

“Don't worry, Captain. I'm not going to kill him. But the less you know, the better off you are.” He switched on his thermal augment and glanced down the hall. “You'll be safe if you head that way, but I don't know for how long.” When Curnow still hesitated, Corvo pointed to Campbell with his prosthetic. “I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, Captain. I could just as easily knock you out and remove you myself. Please don't force me to.”

“You're asking me to aid and abet in a crime,” Curnow said, heavy with disapproval.

“No,” Corvo denied. “I'm asking you to let me right a wrong. Choose quickly, Captain.”

Curnow hesitated for another long second before he nodded. “I'll give you a five minute head start,” he said. “And then I'm setting off the alarm.”

Corvo’s grin widened. “Fair enough,” he said. “Be safe.”

After Curnow left the room, closing the door behind him, Corvo gathered up Campbell’s fallen things, tugging his black leatherbound tablet into one of his many pockets. Hitting the button to turn off outside audio again, Corvo lifted Campbell up and tossed him over his right shoulder. “Outsider, I need to get back up there,” he said and pointed to the ledge at the ceiling of the room. 

<Have you considered jumping?> The Outsider asked, utterly deadpan.

“Har har,” Corvo gumbled. “Hilarious.”  He pulled one of the chairs over to the wall. “It's almost like you want me to fall and break something.”

<Perhaps you might use the table?>

Corvo rolled his eyes. “I'm down an arm, I'm working on it.” 

<There is an alternate route out the window behind you, my Host,> the VI said. The familiar ball of light whizzed past, out the open window, and to the left. <Past architectural records state there is a ledge wide enough for you to comfortably transverse the distance. Then you merely break back in and cross the hallway.>

“You're perfect, thank you.” Corvo hopped down from the chair, climbing out of the window. He followed yet another pointless ledge and pushed open a window in the hall. The doors to the Interrogation room were ahead of him, and steeling himself, Corvo stepped through. 

The Brand was where he left it, and he dropped Campbell into the chair without ceremony. The sight of Campbell in the chair made his chest tighten alarmingly and Corvo backed up sharply. “Shit,” he breathed. 

<Do you require my aid, my Host?> the Outsider asked, feathering out through his mind. A shivery, artificial pulse of pleasure weakened his knees.

Corvo reached out for the wall to hold onto. “What are you even- how do you  _ do _ that?”

<A side-effect of being downloaded into your own neural network,> it explained. <I can access your prosthetics and augmentations to send electrical impulses through your peripheral nervous system, resulting in sensory feedback. Is it harming you?>

“You know very well it isn't,” Corvo grumbled. “Fine. Just. Do that, if I blank out. It's weird as fuck, but it helps.”

<That is the goal. You cannot afford to falter now, my Host.>

“I know.” He adjusted himself awkwardly, and stepped up to the Interrogation chair. Picking up the Brand, and focusing instead on the strange, artificial pounding of his pulse, Corvo pressed it to Campbell’s face.

The unholy shriek that the now ex-Overseer let out nearly deafened him and Corvo scrambled backward. “Definitely time to go,” he said. “Best exit?”

The light flicked out through the door. Following it cautiously, Corvo saw it bounce out the window and turn right, along the ledge once more.

Since the Outsider had never steered him wrong before, Corvo followed his path along the side of the building, coming out over a courtyard. Looking down, his thermal vision went bright and blurry, as Overseers and their dogs scoured the area. The trail of light leapt from the ledge and landed in a graceful arch to the smaller building below. 

Corvo pressed himself back against the wall, and jumped. 

He landed heavily, rolling into it, and crouched down behind the air purifier unit on top of the building. Creeping along the edge of the roof, he gauged the distance between the building he was standing on and the one next to it. “That’s too far for me to jump,” he hissed to the Outsider. “Now what?”

The light zipped from under his feet and scaled the side of the building, running through the cobbled alley between a warehouse and the dog kennel. Sighing, Corvo followed it, keeping to the shadows as much as he could, pressed up against damp stone. An Overseer walked by, whistling but paid no mind to the shadows between the buildings, and Corvo ducked around another corner. 

He stood on a ledge, the yard overlooked the Dunwall cliffside, plunging straight down to what looked like a now inaccessible dock, back when deliveries were mostly made by sea. H.E.A.R.T. helpfully zoomed in on the water, revealing that Samuel waited for him, his boat docked in the dark shallows of the ocean. 

Instead of jumping off the edge of the yard, the light instead zoomed off to the right, leading him up to the warehouse, where it scaled the pitted brick wall. Corvo leapt up to a handhold, pulling himself laboriously up until he reached a long, clearly disused delivery chute. 

Corvo held his breath, hoping that the light would race away but no luck - it dipped into the rusted open entrance and disappeared into the dark tunnel. “Aw come  _ on _ ,” Corvo said, hesitating at the opening. Ice shivered through him at the thought of being enclosed with escape hedging on an opening he couldn’t see, many yards down. 

As he hesitated, alarms began blaring from the Abbey - Curnow must have finally found a working security system - and Corvo jerked forward, ducking down but unable to force himself through. There was another beat of indecision, before the strange, electric and artificial pleasure skated through his nerves, a quick burst, almost like a question. 

Corvo stifled a quiet groan, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the fact that the VI living in his head could make him feel artificial and phantom sensations that registered as nearly physical touch. It helped, he no longer felt ice locking his spine, and the shaky feeling of his breathing had faded nearly instantly, but he could do without the very  _ real  _ erection. 

It was awkward, and mortifying.

Corvo slipped into the chute, and let gravity take him toward the water. 

The ocean was frigid, but Corvo had grown used to being cold, and he surfaced by Samuel’s boat, pushing his hood back before the water logged fabric could get in his way. Samuel jumped, eyes wide with surprise. “Where did you come from?” he asked, helping Corvo out of the water before the hagfish could find him. 

Pointing at the old delivery chute with one hand, Corvo tugged off his mask with the other. “From there. Seemed safest,” he said, teeth chattering. “We should go, the Overseers are on high alert now.”

Samuel nodded, untethering his boat, and pulling away from the cliffs. “Corvo?” he asked, after a few minutes had passed, and the lights of the Abbey were no longer so bright. “Did you kill him?”

Corvo licked his lips, tasting sea water. “... No,” he answered quietly. “I didn’t.”

*

“ _ Just confess _ ,” Burrows hissed in his ear, fingers digging into his jaw. “ _ It’ll all be over if you just confess.”  _ Corvo couldn’t see, his hearing cutting in and out like a distressed audio log. Pain cracked down his spine, as his ribs broke one by one, right after another.

<Wake up.>

He screamed, twisting away from the hot poker, and forced his eyes open, staring down at the bloody stump where his left hand used to be. 

< _ Corvo! _ >  A sensation like a mental slap jolted him into full consciousness. <It was a dream. You were dreaming. Please, my Host, you must wake up!>

Corvo came awake all at once, jerking upright and shaking. The blankets were tangled around his feet and he kicked them off in a panic, muscles twitching and his lungs aching for air. When he finally inhaled, it was a ragged gasp that hurt more than it helped, and Corvo curled into a ball, awaiting a blow, or a cut. 

Instead warm, syrupy pleasure pulsed through him. He could feel the presence of the Outsider VI pressing close to the forefront of his mind. <Let me help you, my Host,> it said.

He inhaled raggedly, trying to speak, but only managed to choke on air as his lungs contracted. He coughed, a deep, wet sound, that aggravated his ribs. He managed a shallow nod, curling his arms over his ribs and holding tightly to his skin. The ridges of scar tissue he could feel made him flinch harder though, and he closed his eyes against broken visions of Burrows and the hot poker from his nightmares.

<No. Focus on me, Corvo.>

The pleasure built from an ember, to a raging inferno. Corvo spasmed on his bed, keening, writhing. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to get away, or find some sort of physical stimulation.

His muscles unlocked, and Corvo flipped onto his back, arching into the strange feeling. He was hard, harder than he’d ever been in his life, and Corvo could hardly stand the pulsing, heat sliding through him. “What are you  _ doing _ to me?” he asked, voice still catching, trying to demand answers but his voice came out as a thin reedy whine.

<Helping you, my Host.> He knew there weren’t any nerves inside his brain, but he could swear he could feel cool feelers unfurling throughout his mind. <I’m using means that have proven effective before. Just relax, my Host. Allow me to help.>

Corvo swallows hard, managing a shallow nod. He rolls over them over, burying his face into the thin pillow, feeling an embarrassed flush heat up his face. The pressure of the mattress against his erection felt exquisite, and Corvo rolled his hips down without thinking about it. 

Taking Corvo’s nod as permission the Outsider seemed to press even closer. Pleasure crackled up their spine, wrenching another cry from him. Corvo shoved a hand between them and the bed, curling it around their cock awkwardly. 

With pleasure burning through their veins, Corvo couldn’t tell where he began and the Outsider ended. The sensation sharpened, ramping them up higher and higher, and Corvo stroked over their cock once, twice, and finally, after an entire day of strange pent-up pleasure and adrenaline, release rushed down their spine.

It was fast, brutal, tearing a cry out of them, as Corvo rolled their hips into the feeling. Orgasm left them boneless and mindless, and Corvo rode out the thick lassitude left behind, uncaring of the sticky mess between him and the bed. 

Eventually, Corvo rolled to the side, out of the damp spot he’d left on the sheets. He laid there on his back, sweat cooling across his skin, panting for breath. “I’m not sure if I should light a cigarette or say thank you right now,” Corvo said.

<I…> The Outsider VI felt fuzzy in his mind. It felt like it was unravelled slightly. <What  _ was _ that?>

Corvo blinked, half sitting up in surprise. “You don’t - shit. Of course you wouldn’t.” He ran a hand through his tangled hair, sitting up the rest of the way. “That was an orgasm,” he said in a rush, trying to keep it as clinical as possible. “It’s uh… when the body feels pleasure, and what happens when you’ve reached the… threshold of stimulation - you have the ‘Net, you can look it up!”

<The articles never said it made your systems go haywire! Your heart rate rose to dangerous levels! I could- I could see it was clearly overwhelming you.>

This was not how he expected to spend his early morning hours. Corvo chewed on his lip for a second before he nodded. “It was overwhelming, and yeah, my heart rate kicked up for a few minutes, but that’s what orgasm does. It’s not a bad thing, it feels good. I know this situation is a bit… strange, but you didn’t hurt me.” He cleared his throat. “But keep it in mind, for the next time we go out there - too much of that ends in… well. This.” He gestured awkwardly to the mess in his lap and on the bed. 

<So noted,> the Outsider said. It seemed to withdraw more into the recesses of his mind. <I don’t want to distract you at a crucial moment.>

Corvo laughed softly, leaning back against the pillows. “Trust me, you can distract me  _ any time,”  _ he drawled, grinning. 

There was a sensation like fizzing static in his skull. <My dear Host,> the Outsider drawled. <That was the worst line I have ever encountered, and I have the entirety of the ‘Net at my virtual fingertips.>

He laughed again. “Forgive me for not giving you something as unique as yourself then,” he said. “I’m having trouble thinking after all you just put me through. You really only have yourself to blame, Outsider.”

<I accept that your current state is my fault. Your wit, however, was never as good as you thought, my Host.>

Corvo clutched his chest. “Lies and slander,” he gasped. “Sassed by my own VI!”

<I am but a mere VI, my Host,> the Outsider returned. <I am incapable of lies.>

“I am wounded,” Corvo told it. “Mortally wounded.” 

<I am certain you will recover. In fact, your chance of survival is at its highest, at one hundred percent.>

Corvo rolled his eyes, climbing out of the bed to change into a spare set of sleeping pants. “You think you’re funny,” he grumbled. “Teach a VI what humor and sarcasm is and suddenly he’s a know it all.”

<The fault is entirely upon your shoulders, my Host,> it said, fizzing some more. <Influencing an impressionable program such as myself.>

Climbing back into the bed, Corvo looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Impressionable, my ass,” he shot back. “You hardly need me at all.”

There was a moment of stillness, before Corvo could feel the VI stir. <That is entirely untrue, my Host. Without you, I would be discovered and destroyed.>

Corvo smile fades. “Better not test it then,” he said lightly. “And uh… Thank you. For earlier. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about.”

<Of course, my Host,> the Outsider murmured. <Now, rest. I’m sure there is more to do when the day breaks.

He rearranged the blankets, pulling them up to cover his shoulder. “Good night, Outsider,” he murmured, curling up under the covers and closing his eyes.

<Goodnight, my Host.>


	5. Chapter 5

Corvo ambled down the stairs yawning, wincing in the bright mid-morning sunlight. He nodded to the maid who was sweeping the stairwell, a task that he found somewhat useless, considering the thick layer of grime everywhere. 

Entering the club proper, Corvo swept his gaze through the room, searching out familiar faces. Samuel Beechworth waved to him, smiling too brightly for the early hour. “Ah, Corvo, you're awake!”

“I am,” Corvo said, going over to where he sat. Samuel was with a young woman, dressed in commoner's clothing who seemed vaguely familiar. 

“Lord Attano,” she said. “I wanted to thank you, I didn't get here in time to speak to you yesterday and I. Just... Thank you, for my Uncle.”

Memory sharpened her features into recognition. “Ms. Curnow,” he greeted. “It was no trouble at all. Your uncle is a good man.”

Callista smiled, a small, warm thing. “He is.”

Samuel patted the stool next to him, still smiling. “Lydia has just gone to get some coffee and a late breakfast. Join us?”

He dropped into the seat, leaning his elbows on the LCD screen that made up the strange counter aesthetic. “Thanks,” he said. “Any idea where our benefactors are?” He wondered.

“They're out in the yard,” Samuel said.

Corvo would have responded but Lydia bustled into to room, holding a large tray of fruits and cheese. “Oh, Lord Corvo!” she said, hurrying over to them. “I hadn't thought you'd be awake for hours yet, not with the nightmares you were havin’ last night.” Corvo stared at her, mouth half open in shock. “Y’know, if you're havin’ bad dreams, I'd be more than happy to help you out with that, I would.”

Mortified, Corvo shook his head. “I. Uh. Thank you? But I'm fine.” He fought down a blush, hunching his shoulders. 

Lydia reached across the counter and patted his arm. “Just say the word, m’lord,” she added, her grin widening. “I'd be happy to tire you out.”

<I believe she thinks your shouts last night were from nightmares instead of… other pursuits. Shall we give her a demonstration to prove otherwise, my dear Host?>

“That is really not necessary,” Corvo yelped, shaking his head. “I'm fine.” The Outsider fizzed again in his mind. Corvo was beginning to think that was the VI equivalent of laughing at him.

Samuel patted his arm. “Lydia, don't scandalize the poor boy,” he said, but his tone was too fond to be a reprimand.

Corvo scowled at him but before he could reply to that, a man burst through the door, pale and green around the edges of his nose. “Infected!” he gasped. “Infected in the tunnels! Thought you ought to know.”

Glancing at the others, Corvo stood. “Show me,” he said. 

He followed the manservant outside to where Pendleton and Havelock were standing by a sewer entrance. “Ah, Corvo,” Havelock said. “I see Wallace found you.”

He nodded once. “Yes.” He dialed up his hearing Augment, tuning into the ambient background noise. Past the rapid beating hearts of Pendleton and his man, Wallace, Corvo could hear the low sound of groaning from the tunnel below, and perhaps more disturbing, the sound of  _ chewing _ .

“I hate to ask this,” Havelock said, “But will you…?”

Corvo focused on him for a second, noting absently that despite the very real danger lurking below, Havelock’s heartbeat was slow and steady. “Get everyone to a minimum safe distance,” he ordered, and reached for his blade. 

Pendleton and Wallace immediately scrambled to comply but Havelock just side stepped out of the way. Corvo dropped down into the sewer, tilting his head and sweeping his gaze around. 

The low groaning and coughing sound was louder below the surface and Corvo winced. He switched to thermal vision, and found two Infected just around the corner of the sewer bend.

<Be careful, my Host,> the Outsider said. <Their infection makes them volatile.>

“How much of a risk am I at to catch it?” He asked, pressing back against the wall. “The Plague.”

<The presence of a complex VI maintaining a firewall should keep you safe,> the Outsider said.

“... Really?”

<Would you like the percentage?>

Corvo thought about it for a second. “Sure,” he answered. “What is it?”

<You have a 97% immunity to the Plague virus.>

Corvo blinked. “I have a what?” He hissed. “You're not serious!”

<I would never joke about our survival.>

“You.. are a technological marvel,” Corvo murmured. “Shit, they're moving.” He turned his attention to the infected Augments, and slipped up the corner of the bend. 

One of the Infected was crouched over a motionless lump in the filthy water, while the other staggered in Corvo’s general direction. Corvo tapped lightly on the wall to gain its attention and as soon as the Augment turned the corner, he struck. 

The infected Augment jerked in startled surprise as Corvo punched him in the face, spinning him to pull him into a Tyvian chokehold. Augmented or not, he still had to breathe.

When his assailant went limp, Corvo lifted him carefully and placed him out of the water. Down one, Corvo stepped into the shin deep water and suppressed a shudder. 

The other infected Augment was still spilling out rough grunts and strange chewing noises, and it was a simple thing to drag her out of the water and knock her out. 

There was a strange vibration that skated through his prosthetic and up into his brain and Corvo frowned. “Uh. What was that?” He asked, as the buzz ran through him again.

<It appears there is a data cache stored here,> the Outsider said.

Corvo stood, following the strange electric buzz, making his way to the gated off exit to the district. Caught in the gentle current was a box, gleaming dully. Corvo scooped it up, and pried it open. 

Instead the box was a data stick, familiar in shape. It looked just like the one that Granny Rags had given him, and he pocketed it. 

“I could never be in one of these places again, and it would be too soon,” Corvo grumbled, wiping muck off his fingers. “I hate sewers and I'm too old for this nonsense.”

<I am sure you are still considered young for a human.>

Corvo snorted. “Don't strain yourself for compliments, Outsider,” he said with a short laugh. He made a concentrated effort to modulate his expression as he climbed back up to the surface. 

<If I was to commit more data to calculating a proper compliment, I’d likely lose efficiency in your protection.>

Corvo smothered another laugh, closing the sewer grate behind him. “Well we can't have  _ that _ , can we?” He murmured. 

<Void, no.>

Corvo bit his tongue to stop another laugh. Something still felt a bit… wrong, to laugh and smile when his hands had killed Jessamine, when the world was dissolving around him and Emily was missing. 

His mood sufficiently ruined, Corvo turned around and leapt about a foot in the air as the wall shimmered oddly and one of the maids appeared in front of him. “Lord Attano!” she gasped.

“You're an Augment,” he blurted out, heart pounding. 

She paled, holding out both hands. They shimmered and bent with refracted light. “You can't tell them!” she breathed. “Oh please, you can't tell them!”

Corvo tilted his head to one side, listening to the rapid, fluttery beat of her heart. “I wouldn't,” he assured her. “Your secret… all of them… are safe with me.”

She wiped away tears with shaking hands. “Thank you, Lord Attano.”

He stepped up closer to her, digging into his pocket for a bit of cloth. “Think nothing of it,” he said quietly. “I understand secrets.” 

She used the cloth he handed her to dry her eyes, smiling tremulously. “The others are waiting for you, Lord Attano,” she murmured. “Admiral Havelock’s friend, the Overseer is here.”

Corvo offered her another smile and slipped past her to find Havelock and Martin in the main room of the Pub. Havelock saw him first, smiling too widely to be genuine and turning to face him. “Ah, Corvo! You've returned. I trust you had no trouble. Martin, you remember Corvo, of course.”

“Overseer,” Corvo greeted with a small smile. “Nice to see you in one piece.”

“Corvo, my friend. A pleasure to see you as well,” Martin said, stepping forward with a winning smile. “I believe I owe you a drink. Care to join us?”

“So you do,” Corvo said. “How was your journey here? I trust you had no trouble?” He led Martin over to the bar, Havelock trailing behind with a nonplussed expression on his face. “I was a little concerned when I returned before you, Martin.”

“Well, less-known pathways don’t always mean shorter ones,” Martin said, bending over the counter and grabbing a whiskey from behind the bar. 

Corvo snagged three glasses, leaning his hip against the edge of the counter. “True enough,” he agreed. “Still, it's good to see you made it safely.” He handed Havelock the third glass, and clinked the edge of his own to Martin's. “Welcome to the Hound Pits,” he added, dryly.

“My thanks,” Martin said, and knocked back the shot with the ease of long practice. He breathed out against the burn and smirked a challenge at Corvo.

“If we could talk business?” Havelock interrupted dryly. 

Corvo lifted a brow and drank his own shot. “Of course,” he said to Havelock, voice roughened with cheap whiskey. 

“Martin, I assume you're still up to date on the Overseer ciphers?” Havelock asked.

Martin fished the leatherbound tablet out of a large pocket. “I’ve been deciphering Campbell’s code since I received his black book. In fact, I believe we have the location of the Lady Emily.”

Corvo’s heart stopped. “What?” He gasped, steadying himself on the bar. “You know where Emily is?”

Martin met his eyes, all traces of his usual flirty humour gone. “Yes. I believe so,” he said. “I believe she’s being held in the Golden Cat. I assume you’re aware of its location?”

“I know of it,” Corvo murmured. He clenched his fists, trying to curb their trembling. “What else do we know?”

“There’s a way into the Cat via the roof of Captain’s Chair inn,” Martin said, pulling up a map on the tablet. “It’s abandoned, but I’m sure a man of your talents would be able to gain access.” Blue eyes flicked up to meet Corvo’s augmented ones. Martin smirked slightly, turning a compliment into his usual flirt.

Corvo grinned, turning the tablet toward him. The map of John Clavering was updated as of a few hours and he could easily see the damage the Bottle Street Gang had left in the area. “You have no idea what my talents are, Martin,” he drawled, looking up again. 

Martin’s smirk turned downright predatory. “Well I, for one, want to see what those talents can do,” he said, leaning close. “In detail.”

He was close enough to Corvo that he could see his reflection in Martin's eyes, and Corvo paused, the intent look snaring his attention. 

Havelock cleared his throat. “I'll leave you two to… hash out the details then,” he ground out, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Corvo, meet me at Joplin’s workshop when you're… done.” He about-faced, stalking from the room. 

“You know,” Corvo commented, watching Havelock go, “I keep getting the impression he doesn't like me much.”

Martin smiled, slow and hungry. “Well, I have a theory that Havelock crawled from the womb without any sense of humour or fun.” He pushed away from the bar and prowled towards Corvo. “But enough about the stuck-up Naval officer. I have more… pressing concerns.” Martin leaned into Corvo’s space, bracketing him with his arms. “Shall we turn to more pleasant matters?”

Corvo could feel the Outsider stir in his mind, interest piqued by current events.

He blinked slowly, tilting his head to the side and regarding Martin curiously.  He was a little surprised, to be completely honest - he hadn't really thought Martin was  _ serious.  _ Corvo was completely at a loss. “Um,” he said elegantly, “I'm afraid I don't have much time for pleasant matters, Martin.” He glanced at the forgotten about tablet by his wrist. “Duty awaits.”

“Ah, of course,” Martin said, the strangely intense look dissipating from his face. He clapped Corvo on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Corvo.” Martin backed away and turned to leave.

Corvo straightened, slipping off the stool. “What about a kiss?” He asked lightly. “For luck?” 

Martin froze. Suddenly, he turned and his hand shot out to grab Corvo by the nape and Corvo found himself getting soundly kissed.

Before Corvo could do much more than blink in surprise, Martin had pulled away and taken a step back. “Good luck,” he offered, an odd smirk twisting up his lips. He disappeared into the stairwell, his heavy boots treading loudly until Corvo was alone. 

“That was unexpected,” Corvo murmured to the world at large.

The Outsider fizzed. <My research on such matters on the ‘Net indicate you should pursue and ravish him.>

Corvo startled, snorting loudly. “What the hell sort of research have you be  _ doing _ ?” He asked.

The Outsider relayed several titles of various harlequin romance novels.

“... Really?” He asked flatly. “You do realize that literally nothing in them is realistic, right?” 

<But then why would they be so widespread and popular?> The Outsider asked. <Especially the ones with multimedia adaptations.>

Corvo shrugged one shoulder, collecting the tablet and tucking it away. “It's escapism, fantasy. A way to forget their boring lives, it doesn't have to be realistic to be enjoyable in fiction.” He snorted again. “But I'm certainly not going to emulate it for real life.  That would be ridiculous.” He pulled his mask out of the pocket of his jacket, fitting it on and making sure the audio dampener was on. “I wasn't expecting him to kiss me, though. That was… unexpected.”

<I do not believe he did either.>

Laughing softly, Corvo agreed. “You're probably right.” He squared his shoulders. “You ready, Outsider?”

<Always, my Host.>

*

John Clavering Boulevard had changed in the few days he’d been away from it. There was a Watchtower hastily erected in the middle of the town square, spinning left and right as it’s motion detector picked up on the guards crawling over the entire district. 

Corvo hated the things, even when he’d been on the right side of them. Now that his face had been uploaded as Enemy Number One, avoiding detection by a Watchtower was going to be more difficult. He’d have to wear the mask at all times, and even then, it still could target him, using his lack of appropriately human facial features as a cause for concern. 

The first thing he was going to have to do was check in with Slackjaw - the man wasn’t exactly the sort he’d prefer in his situation, but any allies were prized now. Corvo slipped down the street, taking care to avoid guards, the Watchtower, and anyone else who would be skulking around. He paused near where Granny Rags had been living, finding the riot doors blocking off both the balcony where he’d witnessed things better forgotten, and her front door. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Corvo headed down the street towards the Distillery door, safe within the confines of the close quartered alleyways. 

Just before turning the corner to meet up with the batch of thugs guarding the door, Corvo collapsed under the weight of a body hitting him at the shoulders. He stumbled hard to his knees, twisting to avoid slamming his face into the dirt, and using his elbow to hit whatever had taken him down.

There was a loud crunch as his arm made contact, and a low grunt of pain, and Corvo flipped over, shoving his assailant to the ground. It was a man - or at least, man shaped - dressed in blacks and dark browns, an old Whalers mask covering his face. The masks had gone out of style years before after the Whale population had dried up and they’d moved onto hardlight and electricity to power the machines instead of oil and magic. 

“Outsider?” Corvo demanded, falling into a defensive position, and watching his attacker carefully. The man darted to one side, blurring with Augmented speed and Corvo swore loudly, ducking another swing. “Who the hell is this guy?” he asked, putting on his own burst of speed to avoid getting gutted.

<Unknown,> the Outsider said. <The mask makes facial recognition rather difficult. Diverting power to your own Augments to match his.>

Corvo grunted, taking a fairly solid punch to the solar plexus, before he slid behind the Whaler and leapt onto his back, dragging him into a chokehold. 

Once the the whaler stopped fighting and collapsed in Corvo’s arms, Corvo dropped him to the ground, rolling him over. In a quick move, he pulled off the guy’s mask, revealing him to be a shockingly young man. “Uh,” he said, staring down at him. “This guy looks like he’s fifteen. Will you run facial recognition for me?” 

<Thomas Westshire,> the Outsider said. <Disappeared age twelve. Currently twenty-two, minor criminal record of prostitution and theft.>

“...Fuck,” Corvo murmured. “At least he only  _ looks _ fifteen.” Corvo looked down at him for a second before hoisting him up over his shoulder. He looked around the alley and spotted a balcony a few feet over his head. “Can I reach that, still carrying him?” he asked curiously, and gesturing.

<Diverting power,> the VI said. Corvo’s legs filled with the now-familiar hum.

He leapt neatly, using the wall for an added boost, pulling himself up onto the balcony with his free hand. Corvo gently dropped Thomas on the ground, surveying the room he’d dashed into. He paused, seeing movement in the shadows. 

Switching his eye Augments over was the work of a blink, and focused on the humanoid shape crouched in the corner, its back to Corvo. A glint of light revealed the edge of a Whaler’s mask on them, and Corvo sighed to himself. 

He crept up to the man, dragging him up from his crouched position and knocking him out easily. “What is with these people?” he grunted, dropping the new assailant onto a dirty mattress and tugging off his mask. 

This man was more obviously Serkonan with dark brows and black hair, a scar over his left eyebrow. “Your turn,” Corvo sighed to the Outsider. 

<Rinaldo Escobar,> it told him. <Born one of twins. CEO of a small indie company, now closed, and with his twin brother, Rulfio, were semi-popular broadcasters of the Dunwall City Archives Podcast before their disappearance five years ago. Minor criminal record for vandalism and disturbing the peace.>

Corvo stood up, arranging Rinaldo so he laid fully on the mattress before turning to collect Thomas. A man stood over him, Whaler’s mask in hand. Corvo had exactly two seconds to wonder how he’d gotten on the balcony without being heard before he spun around, sword out and face twisted in a scowl. 

“You killed them!” he howled, and the man looking at him was clearly Rinaldo’s twin brother. 

Corvo back pedaled quickly, yanking out his sword to block an incoming blow and reaching for the Audio Dampener log on his mask. Rulfio though, put on an inhuman burst of speed and ducked under Corvo’s guard, forcing him to leap back. 

“You son of a bitch, you fucking killed him!” Rulfio roared again, and his voice broke halfway down the middle. 

There was nothing for it, he was going to either take the mask off in order to be heard, or knock the guy unconscious too. “Outsider,” he prompted breathless, ducking another mad swing, “divert power to my arm!”

<Diverting.>

Corvo dashed across the room, and readied an electrical blast, before Rulfio faltered. “Just do it,” he muttered miserably, dropping his blade to the filthy ground. “You already killed Rin, what the fuck’s the point.”

Thumbing the Audio Dampener with his good hand, Corvo said slowly, “They aren’t dead.” Rulfio looked up, face twisted into a snarl. “I didn’t kill them - I knocked them out. Your blond friend attacked me in the alley, I don’t even know who you people are. Check their pulses, they’re just knocked out.”

Keeping his eyes on Corvo, Rulfio leaned over and took his brother’s wrist, feeling around for his pulse. He must find it immediately because he slumped with relief, and when he looked up at Corvo again, his eyes were suspiciously shiny. 

“You could have,” he said. “I saw the way you moved. You could have taken them easily.”

Corvo shrugged, uncomfortable. “Yeah. Maybe. But why would I?” He sighed. “Look, take your friends and go, okay? I have things I need to do in the district and I don’t have time to be dealing out death sentences to kids.” He gestured to the open balcony. “You have my word, I won’t stab you in the back.”

Rulfio stared at him for a long second, before he fit the Whaler’s mask back over his face. “We owe you,” he said. “Thomas, Rin and I. I won’t forget this.”

He picked up his brother and his friend, juggling them awkwardly on his shoulders before he stepped off the ledge of the balcony, and vanished.

Corvo sat down hard. “What the actual fuck,” he said. He scooped up this sword and resheathed it, walking over to the edge of the balcony and looking over. Rulfio and his friends were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not eerie at all,” he muttered, jumping down to street level.

He found himself looking up overhead the rest of the walk towards Bottle Street, slightly more concerned than normal that people  _ were  _ actually after him. He made it to the entrance to Slackjaw’s unhindered though, and he tugged off the mask as he stepped through the door. 

“Looking for Slackjaw?” one of the thugs said, loitering near the entrance. Corvo nodded once, and the thug pointed in a vague direction. “That way.”

“Thanks,” Corvo said dryly. 

Turning in that direction, Corvo walked down the path and out into their open yard. “Shit fuck, that’s fucking Attano,” one of the thugs said and Corvo hid his flinch, shoulders hunching up. 

No one accosted him as he went up to the old warehouse, and Corvo ducked through the open door, turning and finding Slackjaw nearly immediately. He stood at an old desk, a relatively new terminal set up spread across it. “Attano!” he greeted, a sly smile settling over his face. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Corvo raised an eyebrow and leaned his shoulder in the door frame. “It seems like you were expecting me, but since I just made the decision to check in with you a few hours ago I have no idea why that is.”

Slackjaw grinned, gesturing to the terminal in front of him. “Oh, we have our ways,” he said cryptically. “For instance, I know that you need to get into the Golden Cat and you’re on the hunt for Morgan and Custis Pendleton.” His grinned widened. “Slackjaw might be able to help. For a price.”

“Of course,” Corvo said dryly. “What’s your idea, and what’s your price?”

Pulling up a map of the city on the terminal, Slackjaw pointed to the sprawling manor that the Golden Cat called home. “There’s an Art Dealer in the city, name of Bunting. He collects specific art pieces, the ones that use revolutionary holographic paint. He has a vault in his house, and my men haven’t been able to crack his code. Slackjaw has the best ciphers in the business, Attano, and they’ve been stumped for days.”

“So you want me to to find his cipher code,” Corvo hazarded. 

“I do, yes.” Slackjaw dialed the map back, showing the whole quadrant of the city. “The fastest and easiest way into the Golden Cat is through the roof tops, and the best way to get up  _ there _ is through an old Hotel, called the Captain’s Chair. It’s right off John Clavering, but it’s been closed because of drone swarms.”

“Right…” Corvo said, squinting at the map. “I remember that place. It’s likely locked up tight.”

Slackjaw nodded in agreement. “It is. But  _ Slackjaw  _ has that code. I’ll give it to you, and in return for the cipher code for Bunting’s vault, Slackjaw’ll take care of Morgan and Custis for you.”

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Corvo finally said, “I don’t want them dead.”

“I noticed,” Slackjaw said, and his greedy expression softened slightly into something like sympathy. “I don’t know what deal you’ve got going on right now, Corvo. But the rest of us Augments have noticed what you’ve been doing out here for us.” He clasps Corvo’s shoulder tightly. “They won’t be killed.”

Slowly, Corvo nodded. “I agree,” he said. “I’ll get you the cipher code.”

Slackjaw took a step back. “Good choice,” he said. “Take whatever you need from our supply room, we’ll await your return with bated breath.”

Corvo put his mask back on, taking a few Elixirs for his health and a Remedy or two for his Augmentations. “You know,” he said conversationally, heading back up to the street, “I can’t help but wonder why Slackjaw refers to himself in third person. He  _ has  _ to know it sounds ridiculous.”

<His records read hospitalization for faulty cranial Augmentations,> the Outsider said. <I expect that’s where it stems from.>

He nearly missed a step, tripping slightly. “Shit,” he said. “Really? That explains a lot. I’m going to assume for clarification and also my mental health that we are in no danger of something like that?”

<Of course not,> the VI chided. <I am far too meticulous to do that kind of lackluster download. That’s more of an amateur, self-installation mistake.>

Corvo laughed softly. “I can tell you’re neither of those things, my friend, there’s no cause for offense.” 

John Clavering was empty when he stepped out of Bottle Street, and Corvo ducked around the corner towards the sewage dump pipes, heading down below street level. [User:Corvo_Attano,] H.E.A.R.T. suddenly chimed, peppering his HUD with warning symbols. [INFECTED INDIVIDUALS PRESENT] the warning clanged, beeping lowly in his ear.

“Aw hell,” he said, as the growls and groans of infected Augments suddenly grew louder. Peeking around the corner did him no good as a man with bloody eye Augments ran at him, arms outstretched like a demented scarecrow. 

Corvo ducked him smoothly, coming up behind him and letting out a pulse of Electricity, primed and ready from his fight with Rulfio.

It took down the infected man easily, and Corvo caught him before he could crack his head open on the stone steps, lowering him instead slowly. The HUD of the mask warned him that he had two more incoming assailants, and he eyed the pipes above his head. “Get me up there,” he told the Outsider, backing up two steps.

A trajectory lit up, and his legs buzzed with energy. Corvo broke into a sprint and leapt up to the pipes.

He caught them just in time, clinging to the cold metal and watching the two infected run over to the one he’d already knocked out. “Hey,” he murmured to the Outsider, “what’s the cooldown on our Pulse?”

<It can be used twice in short succession, but I advise you to not exceed that amount, as you’ll risk shorting out your prosthesis.>

“Yeah let’s avoid that,” Corvo agreed quickly. He eyed his targets, and readied another blast of electricity. He leapt from the pipe, taking the infected woman down to the ground, using his right hand to knock her across the temple. The man on her right jerked back in surprise, and Corvo loosed the blast of his electric pulse straight into his face.

He left them in a pile stepping away and shaking out his stinging left hand. “I see what you mean, that felt… weird. It strained a little more than I’m used to.”

<Do try not to cripple yourself, my Host,> the Outsider said.

“I was perfectly fine,” Corvo protested to a light buzz that he was beginning to associate to laughter. “Oh shut up,” he groused. “I won’t use it again.”

The Outsider buzzed more laughter through his head but obligingly fell silent. 

It was short work to cross the under-street path to the other side of John Clavering, using his leg Augments to dash across the street as fast as they could carry him. The world blurred a little around him as he slid behind the riot shield left leaning against the side of the building, using it for cover. 

There was a holographic lock on the door, with x’s marking wrong numbers where someone had attempted to input the wrong code. Armed with Slackjaw’s information, he cracked the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

The building was dim, and the smell of damp carpeting and moldy wallpaper assailed his nose. “Ugh,” Corvo grunted. He blinked, turning on his thermal imaging, and swept his gaze around the room, seeing and hearing nothing.

Just to his right was the office door, open and hanging on a hinge. He pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping into the room and glancing around. There were a few coins on the table that he swiped with little guilt, and under the desk was a vial of Sokolov’s Elixir. Pocketing his prizes, Corvo went over to the cash register, jiggling the draw and popping it open.

He’d expected to find money or some keycards to the rooms, but instead of compartments for coins, he found a velvet lined tray with three hyposprays tucked into it. “Uh…” Pulling one out, Corvo held it up to the light, turning it and trying to see the color of the liquid inside the vial. There was little in the way of visibility but Corvo caught the sickly green glint inside the spray. 

When he was still a Lord Protector, he’d seen the stuff before - an illegal synthetic solution for the club scene, a way to harmlessly and chemically knock out unassuming victims. It was fast acting, dissolved in the blood stream quickly, and left the victim insensate for eight hours or more. The lowest the city had to offer used it to get a quick score, or worse, on unsuspecting women alone. 

Why the manager’s office of the Captain’s Chair had  _ three  _ of the hyposprays of the stuff, Corvo didn’t want to know. He tucked them away into his belt, and headed for the stairs. Better he takes them, just in case, instead of leaving them for any lowlife to find. 

He climbed the stairs two at a time, before he registered the rapid movement on the floor above him. Drones zoomed around the half balcony, their red lights eerie in the dim hallway. Corvo leapt up onto the bannister, balancing precariously as they swarmed around where he’d been standing. 

He couldn’t get down, not without stepping into the group of insane drones, but he also couldn’t continue up the stairs on the bannister, already hunched up by the ceiling. H.E.A.R.T.’s HUD pulled up a plan of the building without prompting, and Corvo could see that he was midway between the second and third floor. He still had another flight of stairs to ascend before making his way down a hall for the roof door.

“Hey,” he murmured, “Can you divert power for me, to my legs again? I have an idea. Don’t tell me the odds.”

His legs buzzed with power, and Corvo prayed for luck before launching himself off the bannister. He hit the wall with a thud and he twisted immediately, pushing off before gravity could drag him into the drone swarm.

Using the momentum, Corvo landed on the third floor bannister belly first, knocking the wind out of him, and he scrambled up to perch there, breathing hard. 

<Very agile, my Host.>

“Well, at least I made it,” Corvo said, and using the last of the power in his legs, bolted down the hall. He could hear the sound of squealing drones as they struggled up the stairs toward him, but Corvo didn’t slow down or turn to look. 

The roof door was neatly labeled, and he ran full speed, slapping the door panel with his good hand and darting through the door before it had even opened fully. He turned just in time to see the swarm closing in on him, before the door slid shut.

When he left the area, he wasn’t going that way. 

Taking a second to breathe evenly and calm his racing heartbeat - which H.E.A.R.T. told him, was 57 beats above the resting limit - he tugged off his mask and drank one of Piero’s Remedies. Just in case.

He had an art dealer to find, and a daughter to save. He wasn’t taking any chances.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troo: This is the chapter that makes drea cringe. I love it. The Bunting scene is entirely her responsibility. >:D  
> The puns are on me.  
> We would like to dedicate this chapter to Estora, who is a delight.

Bunting, it turned out, was easy to find. As soon as he entered the Golden Cat, a club that catered to the elite and foolhardy, he tuned his ears to find the first reference of his target that he could hear. A girl named Betty - a stripper, apparently - whined to her coworker about doing a ‘session’ with ‘creepy weird Bunting’ in ‘Triage’. 

“That was almost too easy,” Corvo murmured, and H.E.A.R.T. pulled up a small map in the corner of his HUD, revealing where the Triage Room was to be found.

It was, of course, in the middle of the rotunda, just off to one side of the rotating center stage.

Crouched up on a window sill, far above the stage and even with the catwalk for the lights, Corvo wondered if he could get away with looking like a customer. Using his thermal imaging just gave him a headache, as the lights for the stage were bright and hot enough to blind him a little. 

He dropped down to the catwalk, and sidled around the edges of what passed for ‘back stage’ to find the Lighting Panel. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the switches or buttons there, but he did recognize the power button when he saw it.

Corvo pressed the button, and the entire room went black as pitch. Using what little opportunity he had, as all the ladies screamed and there were some unhappy bellows, and he leapt off the ledge of the catwalk and landed in the dark shadows of the corner of the room.

The Triage room light was already on occupied, and Corvo slid along the wall until he got to the door. He stepped inside, just as the lights went on, and drew up short. “Oh no,” he hissed. “No  _ way _ .”

Bunting, or the man who he assumed was Bunting, was strapped down to a gurney like table, dressed in a fake hospital shift. He had electrodes connected to his partially revealed chest, as well as wires that led  _ under _ the fake hospital shift. 

Despite being mostly covered from being indecent, the shift did absolutely nothing to hide the bulge between Buntings legs. 

Thankfully, he was blindfolded, but not gagged, and Corvo moved over to the console a few meters away from the table. The wires all led to it, and he studied it quickly. There were about six or seven wires leading away from it, but there were only four buttons and a single switch. It seemed easy enough to use.

“Betty?” Bunting asked, “Is that you darling? You’re making more noise than usual. Have you gained weight?”

Corvo scowled on Betty’s behalf, fully understanding why she had no desire to do the scene with him. 

“No matter,” Bunting said without waiting for ‘Betty’ to speak. “My word for today is ‘retribution’. When I say that word, you will stop, do you understand me? Not one minute more.”

Grimace fading, Corvo paused at the controls. He  _ really _ didn’t want to do this. 

“You may begin,” Bunting said imperiously. 

Corvo pulled another face and flipped the on switch, and both he and Bunting twitched at the sound of the machine humming to life. Two of the buttons had the symbol for electricity over them, and the other two had a plus and minus, so Corvo prodded one of the buttons for the electrodes.

Bunting’s back arched and Corvo looked up at the ceiling. “This is the worst and most awkward thing I have ever done,” he said to the world at large. He hit the other button for the electrodes, and the machine charged up with a whine and the sound of a shock filled the room as Bunting nearly bucked himself off the gurney. 

The hospital shift covered him, but there was no hiding how interested he’d become from just a few electric shocks. 

Decidedly uninterested in finding out what the other buttons did, Corvo pressed the minus button, and when nothing happened, he shrugged to himself and hit the plus sign instead.

A low frequency buzzing filled the room, and Bunting’s strangled groan would haunt Corvo for years to come.

He hit the button for the electric shock again, and Bunting squealed, arching up again. “I’ve done a terribly bad thing,” he said, on the tail end of his groan. “The Pendleton twins, they gave me their inheritance to look at, it was worth hundreds, thousands!” He laughed, writhing to the beat of the vibration that Corvo hadn’t turned off yet. “I lied to them, Betty, told them it was worthless! They were  _ furious.  _ Oh, shock me again, I deserve it.”

Corvo hit the button, and Bunting twisted in his bonds, a dark wet spot appearing at the front of the hospital gown. He was still twitching, arching towards and away from something and he gasped out a ragged sob. “Retribution,” he said, breathless. “Retribution, that’s enough now.”

Pressing his lips together and staring up at the ceiling again, Corvo hit the button to turn up the vibration. Bunting howled. “Retribution, I said,  _ retribution! _ ” 

Feeling vaguely sick, Corvo hit the button to electrocute him again. Bunting shrieked, his entire body bowing so that only his shoulders and ankles were touching the bed. “What do you  _ want _ ?” he begged. “Turn it off, just  _ turn it off! _ ” 

Finally. He thumbed the audio dampener. “Give me the cipher code to your vault,” Corvo said evenly, pitching his voice lower than normal. 

“That’s what you want?” Bunting asked, panting and writhing. “Of course, of  _ course _ , it’s in my bag. Just there, in the corner with my clothing. Take it,  _ take it. _ ”

Corvo went over to the bag and fished out the small data cipher, tucking it away into the pocket of his jacket. 

Bunting was visibly hard again, and Corvo winced in sympathy, turning off the machine. Bunting whined softly as he did so, and Corvo went for the door without caring if anyone was behind it. He couldn’t stay in that room for even a second longer. 

Luck seemed to be on his side, as no one was in the immediate vicinity, and it was child’s play to leap up from a chair to a shelf to the catwalk again. 

If Emily was here, he’d have to find the Madame’s office - it would give him something to focus on, instead of dwelling on what just happened in that room. 

He was never telling  _ anyone  _ about that. “Not a single word out of you,” he growled at the Outsider, climbing up the catwalk and back onto the window sill.

There was the fizzing laughter from the VI. Of course, it ignored him. 

<My research indicates that I should say something along the lines of “Was it good for you?” Or perhaps, “How shocking”.>

Agonized, Corvo groaned and covered his face with his hand. “Your research is  _ wrong _ .” 

Only more laughter answered him.

“That was  _ mortifying, _ ” Corvo hissed. “I never wanted to know that about  _ anyone _ . Ever!” He climbed out of the sill and moved along the elaborate buildings outside awning. “And I definitely didn't need to be a part of it.”

<Think of it as an educational experience, my Host,> the Outsider said. Corvo was beginning to regret teaching it humour.

“An educational experience, my  _ ass,”  _ Corvo groused. “I'll leave those to you.” He paused. “Not that I'm giving you permission to electroshock me. Please do not do that.”

<If you insist,> the VI said.

“Thank you,” Corvo said. “Let's strike those twenty minutes entirely from the record. It didn't happen.” He shuddered. “I feel like I should have at least untied him.”

<Would you prefer to turn back? I’m certain he is eagerly awaiting another… stimulating presence.>

In the process of ducking under a different window sill, Corvo smacked his head into the frame. “Oh my  _ God, _ no. I can think of at least a thousand things I'd rather see than what Bunting looks like when he has an orgasm.”

<Think of it as an educational experience for your impressionable VI.> Now Corvo was certain the program was teasing him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, dropping into the Madame’s office. “I doubt you need  _ any _ help in that department.”

The office was empty, and Corvo spun in a slow circle, looking for something that was familiar. A log book lay open, with a list of names scrawled across one page. Pinned between the top of the desk and the book was a note, stating only “Remember to feed the girl.”

Corvo’s heart seized in his chest, and he rifled through the desk drawers looking for a keycard or even an ancient key.  

Under several opened boxes of Serkonan Cigarillos, he found a metal keycard, stamped with the word “Master” on it. Snatching it up, Corvo pulled up the specs for the building on Madame Prudence’s terminal, looking for any out of the way room.

On the top floor it seemed like there were several rooms that had no labels and Corvo headed for the stairwell.

The stairs were old wooden things, different from the sleek chrome and metal of the rest of the Cat. He hurried up the steps, silent as he could make himself, and got to the top floor uncontested. 

There were two doors ahead of him and thermal imaging showed only one was occupied. The holographic lock was a dark red, layered with so many encryption and security alerts that, for the first time, Corvo felt hope lighten his heart. 

Swiping the Master key card through the indicator, the lights turned green, one by one, and after a minute, the door swung slowly open.

The room was trashed, a day bed overturned and the tablet next to it broken. The only light was from a small upper window and an ancient, guttering, whale oil lamp. 

Movement flickered in the corner of his mask, and the thermal unit he'd seen came into sharp relief, as Emily swung a broken table leg at his knee.

He caught it in his prosthetic hand, holding it steady as Emily shrieked in rage. “You can't stop me from escaping!” she said, tugging uselessly at his grip. 

Corvo fumbled at his mask, ripping it off his face in his haste. “Emily!” he breathed. 

She stopped struggling, staring at him in shock. “... Corvo?”

Emily dropped the broken table leg, flinging herself into Corvo’s arms, and he scooped her up, spinning her around like he used to do when she was small. “Emily,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the cap of her hair.

“They said you were dead,” Emily mumbled into his shoulder. “Head cut off just like Mother. I knew they were lying, I knew it!”

He hugged her tightly for a second longer before setting her on her feet. “Em, we have to go,” he said, retrieving his mask from the floor. “I have a friend at the waterfront of John Clavering, his name is Samuel, he can take us to safety.”

Emily nodded, something determined settling into her features. “We can take the VIP exit. I'll show you. Come on!”

She picked up her makeshift weapon, brandishing it in front of her. 

Together they make their way down the back stairs, to the ground floor and out into a small enclosed alley. “I made it this far once,” Emily said wistfully. “But the door was locked and I couldn't hack it.”

Thumbing the Audio Dampener, Corvo replied dryly, “It's a good thing I have a key then.”

The Master keycard made short work of the security precautions, and then, they were out. 

Having never spent much time near the Golden Cat, Corvo idly wondered why the VIP entrance lead out into the sewer alley. Movement on his thermal imaging registered a moment later and he sank down into a crouch, pulling Emily down with him.

He gestured her quiet, and turned off Audio on the mask, just in case. They edged along the walkway, keeping to the shadows, one eye on the movement, another on the exit to the under-street. 

They were most of the way there when the person Corvo’s watching suddenly turned, lightning quick, and said clearly, “What do my little birdies see? Hm?” 

Panic flooded him and Corvo pulled Emily close, hissing, “Divert power, divert power!” to the Outsider.

[Your heart rate is 41 beats per minute above the recommended rate, User:Corvo_Attano,] H.E.A.R.T. said helpfully.

Though the Outsider made no reply, Corvo’s legs buzzed with familiar energy and holding Emily tightly, he dashed for the exit.

The last thing he saw of the area was the red glow of infected drones, and the lone, hunched figure of Granny Rags standing in the middle of them.

Once they were back on the street level, Corvo let go of Emily, thumbing off the Dampener. “That was so  _ cool!”  _ Emily said, excitedly. “Could you always do that?  _ How _ did you do that? Can I do that some day? It was like  _ flying _ !”

“I… underwent some upgrades,” Corvo said, not quite succeeding in keeping his tone neutral. “You could do it too, some day.”

Emily grinned up at him. “You're like a superhero now!”

Corvo snorted. “Not likely. Come on, Sam is this way.”

The streets were relatively safe, and the Watchtower was fortuitously pointed in the opposite direction when they crossed down to the water.  Samuel was waiting right where he'd left Corvo, warming his hands over a fire.

“Corvo,” he said happily. “And Miss Emily!” He sketched a hasty bow, making Emily giggle. 

“Samuel,” Corvo greeted. “I have one last thing to do. Will you stay will him?” He asked Emily seriously. “I won't be able to concentrate if I keep thinking of you wandering.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I'll stay here, dad.”

He moved the mask so he could kiss her forehead. “Thank you. Take care of Samuel for me.”

Corvo left quickly, not looking back, in order to finish the job so he could get back to Emily. The thugs let him in at Bottle Street, not saying anything about his mask, and when he entered the yard, Slackjaw was pacing the length of it. “Here,” Corvo said, holding out the cipher.

Slackjaw grinned, leaping forward to take it. “You're a gentleman and a scholar, Attano, my friend!” he crowed. “Now it's our turn, and Slackjaw always pays his debts.”

He pulled out a small mobile communication unit, typing something quickly into the interface. “What did you have to do?” Slackjaw asked curiously a moment later. 

Corvo was thankful he'd left the mask on, as the heat of a blush crawled over his skin. “Don't ask,” he muttered.

Slackjaw just gave him a knowing look before turning his attention back to the communicator. Ten minutes passed in slow, painful seconds before the unit chimed. “The Pendletwats have been apprehended,” Slackjaw confirmed. “Don't you worry about a thing, my friend, Slackjaw will take care of it.”

Corvo nodded slowly, taking a step back. “What are you going to do to them?” He asked.

Slackjaw smiled and patted Corvo on the shoulder. “Slackjaw has some of the best surgeons in the business, Corvo,” he said kindly. “Better not to ask too far past that, no? And if you ever need a hand, Slackjaw’s boys will be happy to lend one.” 

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Corvo agreed, shook hands with Slackjaw and made his escape.

Emily was waiting. 

*

Emily hugged him tightly, in front of all the assembled Loyalists, burying her face in his jacket. Havelock introduced Emily to Callista Curnow, who smiled and waved to a suddenly shy Emily. 

He tugged his mask off, smiling down at Emily and nudging her gently. “I served with her uncle once,” he told her. “No need to be shy.”

That brought her head up, scowling at him. “I'm not  _ shy,”  _ she protested.

“Uh huh,” Corvo murmured. 

Callista poorly hid a smile behind her hand and she gestured to the Tower to their left. “That's where Admiral Havelock has placed us, for now. Will you walk with us?”

With Emily on one arm and Callista on the other, Corvo took them up to the attic where he showed them the door to their tower. 

Emily broke away from him to bounce on the bed. “Corvo where do you sleep?”

He pointed back the way they came. “In the attic,” he answered. “Anyone trying to get to you goes through me first.” He knelt at her side. “I have to go check in with Havelock and get something to eat. Be good for Ms. Curnow.”

She nodded hesitantly. “Will you come say good night? Or eat dinner with me?”

Corvo softened and kissed her forehead. “I am never leaving you alone again,” he promised. “I'll come get you for dinner.”

Emily hugged him again. “Love you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for not being dead.”

“I love you too, Emily,” he whispered. “I'll see you in a few hours.”

He nodded to Callista and headed back to his room, sinking down onto the bed. He needed a minute before facing Havelock. Leaning back on the mattress he murmured to the Outsider, “You've been awfully quiet. Everything okay?”

<... You didn’t take the option that had the highest chance of survival.>

Corvo blinked. “Well, we survived, so that can't be right. What option are you referencing?”

<You could have left the girl behind,> the VI said. All traces of life and humour were gone from its voice. <She slowed you by 32%. Not to mention she’s much more likely to reveal your position.>

“The girl,” Corvo repeated icily, “Is my daughter.”

<I do not see how that should mean you have to risk both our existences.>

Corvo took a deep breath, trying to remember that the Outsider, no matter how human he acted, was a machine. “You have incorrect information,” he said, through a tight jaw. “As her father, it is 100% my responsibility to keep her safe. That is my objective, as her father. That is my  _ top priority _ as her father.  And if my survival is compromised so she lives, then I will make that choice, every time. It's bad enough I murdered her mother. The least I can do is protect my daughter.”

<You forget my life is at risk as well, Corvo.>

Corvo sighed. “Do you trust me?”

<I am a program, Corvo. The ability to trust is beyond me.>

“I might have believed that once, you know. Let's be academic then: do you trust me to save my own life? Or to do so to my utmost ability, even when compromised?”

<I did, but you risked our lives to save the girl. Your daughter.>

Corvo rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Outsider, surely in all your years out there, you've witnessed family units? Of  _ course  _ I'm going to protect her, she's all I have.”

<...I don’t remember.>

Corvo blinked again, suddenly very sad for his VI. “You don't remember family? … Do you want me to.. tell you about mine?”

<I- Yes, please,> it replied, sounding mollified at last.

He leaned back against the pillow, sprawling on the bed. “My father died when I was young,” he said quietly. “I remember being angry that he was gone because he left us alone, and my mother was forced to take two jobs to support my sister and I. My sister ran away from home when I was thirteen, I looked for her for years but I… never found her. Karnaca back then was dangerous, and the Policia said to assume the worst.” He cleared his throat. “I came to Dunwall to find a better life than the dusty streets of Batista, and then I met Jessamine. I don't think I can describe how loving her felt, Outsider. She was my everything. My lodestar, from which I fashioned all things. When she gave me Emily and put her in my arms, it was.” His voice cracked tellingly and he swallowed. “Imagine… all the fear you feel over accidental or imminent destruction, only you don't feel it for yourself. You feel it for this tiny, perfect little girl with your eyes and Jessamine’s smile. I stopped living solely for myself that day - my life is Emily’s. No parent should ever be forced to bury their child, Outsider. It's the greatest fear I have, that one day I won't be fast enough or strong enough or…  _ good  _ enough, and I will fail.” 

The Outsider was silent for a long time. Finally it spoke up, saying only:

<Then I suppose that is all I can ask,> the VI said. <I may not completely understand, but I can see it’s important to you.>

“It is,” Corvo answered. “You've become important to me too, you know,” he added gently. 

<I am a program, my Host,> it said. <I am incapable of reciprocating.>

He shrugged. “Well you're my program, then.”

Though there wasn’t any reply, Corvo could feel the Outsider brush up against his mind again, back from its isolation.

Giving himself a second to compose his emotions, Corvo sat up. He had to check in with Havelock and Piero, and meet Emily for dinner. 

He had a long night ahead of him, but with Emily safe, he felt like he could finally relax.

*

“We need Anton Sokolov,” Havelock said to him, a number of days later. 

Corvo couldn't help the soft laugh he gave at that. “Sokolov won't help you even if you paid him,” he pointed out. “He's contrary like that.”

Havelock pulled an annoyed face. “That's why we have you, Corvo,” he pointed out. “With Martin at the Feast of Painted Kettles, and the city in disarray, it's the perfect time to… bring him here.” 

Corvo lifted an eyebrow. “Now you want me to kidnap someone?” He asked, vaguely incredulous. 

“... It may seem that way,” Havelock said slowly. “But we have no intentions on hurting anyone.”

He curbed the urge to continue protesting, a sort of inner feeling of wariness bubbling up under his skin halting his words. “Fine,” he said shortly. “What do you need from me?”

Havelock smiled, expression easy again. “Sokolov was warned by Burrows that there was someone lurking about,” he said offhand. “But Sokolov thinks he's a god, and has few guards at his… house. Simply go there, and bring him to us.”

Thinking of the three hypos of sedative he still had,  Corvo imagined that getting Sokolov to Samuel’s boat would be easy. Getting there would be interesting though, as Burrows had installed floodlights and a Watchtower by the main Bridge. 

“Fine,” Corvo said. He stood, tilting his head down to look at Havelock. “I'll go say goodbye to Emily then, and be on my way.”

Havelock made a face that Corvo couldn't quite interpret. “There's no need to disturb the Lady Emily during her schooling,” he protested, and if Corvo had been another, different man, it would have dissuaded him entirely. 

Instead, Corvo arched a brow, staring Havelock down. “Then you want to be the one to tell her I left on a dangerous mission and didn't say goodbye to her?” When Havelock didn't immediately have a response, Corvo stepped neatly around him and went into the Pub to find Emily. 

She was sitting in the corner booth with Callista, bent over a book and writing something carefully, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Corvo hid a smile and moved up to them, sliding into the seat next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “What are we learning about today?” he asked her.

“Maths,” Emily grumbled, even as she curled into him.

Corvo snorted softly, looking over her work with an experienced eye. “That one is wrong,” he pointed out gently, gesturing. 

Emily twisted to give him an outraged look. “Corvo!”

He grinned at her. “Sorry.”

“You are not,” She grumbled. “Mean.”

Laughing again, Corvo kissed the top of her head. “I didn't come over here to critique your work,” he promised. “I have to go for a little while,” he said when Emily looked up at him again. “I should be back late, and I'll come and check on you before sleeping.”

Emily’s face shifted through a series of emotions, going from annoyed to alarmed to frightened before settling on a neutral expression that reminded him of Jessamine. “Promise you'll be back?” she asked.

“I promise,” he said and hugged her close again. He stood, looking over her papers. “And that one is still wrong,” he said.

She shrieked, and flung the pen at him which Corvo caught easily, laughing. When he handed it back she hugged him tightly around the waist. “Love you,” she whispered.

Bending down to fix the red ribbon in her hair, he murmured back, “Love you too.”

He waited until she was back doing her school work before leaving the Pub and meeting Samuel down by the Wrenhaven. “Ready, Corvo?”

He sighed. “As I'll ever be.” He put on the mask, making sure the outside audio was off. “How about it, Outsider? You ready?”

<Always, my Host.>


	7. Chapter 7

Corvo hated the layout of Kaldwin’s bridge. 

Every available surface was covered in holographic video screens, advertising Sokolov’s elixir, or simply playing a log of his face and the place he'd been last seen. 

“ **ATTENTION DUNWALL CITIZENS,** ” one blared, as a camera zoomed in on Burrows’ rat-like face, “ **Dunwall is under Martial Law. MANDATORY CURFEW IS ENFORCED. YOU HAVE 2 HOURS. If you are found violating the Mandatory Curfew, you will be detained and jailed.”**

Corvo flinched, pulling his jacket’s hood up. “I hate those things,” he muttered. 

<Avoid the pylons, my Host,> the Outsider said. <They’ve been set to alert guards after curfew when unauthorized personnel walk past. Before curfew, they’ll do the standard high-volume advertisement.>

Corvo sighed. “Of course. We’'ll have to avoid the Strip then, after we disable the Watchtower. Which way is best?”

<Accessing.> In a second, the ball of light zipped up a lift and over the lip of the old stone of the bridge.>

He balked hard. “You're not serious.”

<There is only one way up, my Host. Do try not to fall.>

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming,” Corvo said and vaulted over the lift to cling to the outside of the steel bridge. He scanned for footholds, before beginning to climb. “This is just like the wall at bootcamp,” he said. “Totally the same.”

<Except I’m certain the wall at bootcamp did not have armed guards at the top.>

Corvo laughed and if it sounded faintly hysterical, he ignored it. “Uh, well, it did if Gunny Thorpe was in charge that day.” He grunted as he leapt and grabbed a particularly difficult handhold. “And if you fell off when Gunny Watson was in charge, you were on latrine duty for a week,” he added.

He stopped talking when he'd been climbing for close to ten minutes, out of breath and arms straining.  Cold wind whipped through him and his right hand, icy and stiff slipped off one of the steel girders. “Shit,” he swore, clinging all the harder with his left. “Outsider, how much higher?”

<You have ten meters to go.>

“Ten meters, I can do ten meters. Just like Gunny Thorpe’s bullshit routines. We've got this.”

He hauled himself up another few feet, and after another surge of effort that might have been attributed more to his nanites than to his own power, he pulled up onto the top of the Watchtower.

“Ow,” he muttered, and leaned back against the wall. “Am I going to have to climb  _ down  _ too?”

<Possibly,> the VI said. It didn’t sound at all repentant.

Corvo bit back an instinctive whine at that. He stood up, flexing his hands. The Watchtower was set up the same as any, and Corvo maneuvered around the main building to find the security console.

After prying open the box, he blinked at it. “I don't think I can hack this,” he said.

<May I make a suggestion?>

“Always,” Corvo said. 

<Plug the console into your neural ports. I will handle the rest,> the Outsider said. <And, Corvo?>

Corvo tugged one of the USB jacks out of the console, holding it carefully. “Yes, Outsider?”

<Don’t remove the ports until I tell you to. Please.>

He frowned at the tone, but nodded slowly. “I won't. I'll wait for your word.”

The Outsider hummed. <Ready.>

He hovered the connector wire to one of his ports. “Good luck,” he offered, and plugged in the wire. 

Instantly, Corvo found himself floating weightless over an endless blue void. He could only grasp fragments of the world around him as a sound, vast and deep, echoed around him. He felt incredibly small and insignificant.

Before he even had a chance to panic, something massive and invisible enveloped him. It felt impossibly huge, and impossibly old.

<I have you, my Host. Try not to panic. There was a slight error in my calculations, and you were pulled into the Void when I accessed it.>

“The Void?” Corvo asked, or maybe thought - he couldn't hear himself, or really, anything. “What is this..? How is this possible?”

Before Corvo could get an answer, the nebulous entity that had to be the Outsider pulsed a vicious red-orange of the Infected drones. Sparking pain flickered in pin pricks all over his skin. Corvo writhed in the Outsider’s grasp, gasping for breath.

<Hold on, my Host,> the VI said. <The security measures are… unpleasant.>

The pain ceased as quickly as it had come.

“‘Unpleasant’,” Corvo quoted quietly. “This is the weirdest damn thing I've ever experienced.”

<It will not last much longer,> the Outsider told him. <One moment.>

Corvo felt the presence undulate around him. Suddenly, he found himself getting the distinct feeling of being dragged backwards by the ankle. Then his stomach swooped as he felt himself dragged sharply downwards.With a disorienting jolt, Corvo found himself back in his body.

“Whoa,” he said, feeling sluggish. “Is it…?” He cut himself off, seeing the green light on the console. “Good work! Uh. Can I unplug this?”

There was a shocking moment of silence and emptiness. Before Corvo could question it, a sensation like cool water trickling into his head. Moments later, the Outsider whispered, <You may, my Host.>

Gently, he unplugged the wire and closed the box. “You're okay?”

<Just overtaxed. I had forgotten how draining it is to hack powerful security, and I was protecting you at the same time.>

“I'm sorry you had to do that.”

<It was a minor miscalculation that allowed you in,> the VI said, quickly. <I will know to block that variable in the future.>

Corvo nodded. “Alright. I'll get down from here on my own.” He turned off the flood lights with a few deft flicks of his fingers. 

Once all the lights had gone dark, he cracked his knuckles on his right hand and jumped over the edge to climb down the opposite side of the Tower. 

Down was only easier than up because gravity was pulling him that way anyway. He makes it nearly to the ground - a quick glance told him he'd only had fifty feet to go - but looking also told him that the side of the watchtower he'd chosen had no more steel girders.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Maybe I spoke too soon. I hope you're okay with water.”

<Your prosthetics are waterproof.>

“Good enough,” he said, and let go.

The water closed over his head almost instantly and the shock of cold surprised him. His heavy coat dragged him down, and he fought to resurface again. He had to get out of the water before the hagfish found him.

He struck out slowly, reorienting himself and making for the shore closest to Sokolov’s strange mansion.

Corvo managed to make it to a small personal dock, climbing up onto it just before the hagfish snapped at his foot.

He took in a deep breath and - the cloth of his mask hit him in the nose and mouth.

Panic seized him, bright and sharp before his entire world went dark.

*

Corvo came to an indeterminate time later and blinked in complete and utter shock. 

He found himself half on a ratty couch, leg bent in a seriously uncomfortable angle beneath him, with a musty smelling blanket wrapped burrito style around his torso and right arm. As his eyes focused, he could see a pile of wet clothing that bore a strong resemblance to what he had been wearing before falling into the river. 

Shifting awkwardly, trying to get his leg to straighten and wincing at the pins and needles of returned blood flow. “Uh,” he said, hoarse and pained, “what happened?”

He was still cold, though no longer shivering, and he untangled himself from the blanket, seeing that he was wearing a patched shirt that was at least two sizes too small, as well as having a pair of ladies sweatpants in hot pink tugged up one leg to mid-thigh.

“Okay seriously,” he said. “What happened?” When no answer was immediately forthcoming, Corvo sighed loudly. “Outsider, you  _ literally live in my head _ , you can't ignore me.”

There was a long, static-filled silence. Finally, the VI spoke up. <I have overtaxed myself, my Host. Give me time to rest. Please.>

“We’re going to be having a conversation about all this overtaxing you keep doing,” Corvo muttered, struggling off the couch. “Let me know when you're okay, at least. I still have to go break into Sokolov’s house.”

He shrugged out of the shirt, using it to squeeze any leftover water out of his hair. The hot pink pants were summarily discarded, and Corvo retrieved his own clothing, finding it soaked.

“Shit fuck goddamn it,” he swore. Looking around the room revealed a set of ancient laundry devices, and a quick check of the lights proved that though abandoned, the house was still on the grid.

Setting the dryer to as high heat as it could go, Corvo threw his clothing in, wrapping up in the blanket and settling back on the couch. It was too cold outside to run around without being at least mostly dry - he'd been lucky enough to avoid a lung infection in Coldridge, no need to tempt fate now.

Setting the alarm on the dryer to go off in twenty minutes, Corvo curled up on the couch and closed his eyes. Even after so many years in Gristol, he wasn't really used to the grey and cold weather, preferring the warmth and sun of Karnaca. 

Without the Outsider to entertain him, the twenty minutes ticked by slowly, and he managed an unfulfilling half doze before the alarm went off and he could retrieve his clothing. 

The jacket was still damp but everything else was dry enough and the fresh warmth was everything he could have wanted. Pushing his feet into damp boots was unpleasant and putting the cold mask on was worse but he'd dealt with harder things. 

Once outside, he oriented himself to the proper direction and headed up the street, ducking into the first alley on his right and using a dumpster to leap onto the roof of the Strips Shopping District. Behind all the signs, he was silent and anonymous as he could be, heading down Bridge St toward the Arts Avenue. Sokolov’s entire mansion took up most of the corner of Bridge and Arts, and it was relatively easy to get a good look at the place.

Using H.E.A.R.T. to zoom in, Corvo immediately looked for Guards and other security personnel, finding far fewer than expected. 

[User:Corvo_Attano, there is an incoming message from Samuel_Beechworth,] it said. [Open, Y/N?]

“Yes,” he said, sinking back into the shadows. 

[Corvo,] the email read, [I've moved along the Wrenhaven, thanks for disabling those floodlights. I'm right by Sokolov’s place. Ping me when you're ready to go.]

“H.E.A.R.T. send back a message that simply says okay, then close the connection,” he instructed, ignoring her affirmation. 

If he recalled correctly, Sokolov’s workshop was on the top floor, in the glass walled monstrosity. Corvo leapt lightly from the store front roof to the balcony of an apartment building adjacent, climbing the side of it before grabbing the fire escape. 

Moving swiftly, he took the stairs to the much higher roof of that building, and jumped down to the metal catwalk that circled Sokolov’s workshop. He moved up to the door, calling up the hacking program to get into the flimsy holographic lock and opened the door as quickly and quietly as he was able. 

It swung open on silent hinges and Corvo was faced with wanton destruction. 

The floor of the workshop was littered with dead drones, shoved into haphazard piles and leaving a thin walkway for movement. Carefully Corvo moved around a lump of drone pieces to see Sokolov standing at a table.

His back was to Corvo and he narrowed his eyes, zooming in to see what Sokolov was doing. A wet sound reached his ears and Sokolov muttered, seemingly to himself, “Hmm.. degradation of the frontal cortex, seems to be in line with the other observations I've made. An infected Aug will have..mm..” he trailed off into muttering but Corvo had seen enough. 

He slipped up behind Sokolov and injected the hypospray into his neck. The drugs acted disturbingly fast and Corvo caught Sokolov before he could hit the floor.

“God, look at this place,” he murmured. “Outsider, is there anything useful in here or can I just leave and hopefully never return?”

<Scanning,> the VI said. It still sounded fuzzy, like it was slightly out of tune, but still much better than it did before. <There is a woman in a containment cell behind you.>

Corvo spun around and caught sight of an augmented woman huddled into a corner. She was held in a transparent cage. The oily sheen of the glass indicated it was strengthened with threads of titanium. The cage was small, just enough that she could stand or lay down but it wasn't a large cage, lined in glass paneling. A holographic keyboard hovered near the door and Corvo searched Sokolov’s pockets for a keycard. 

He found one tucked into the front pocket of his pants, and tugged off his mask, walking slowly up to the door. “Hi,” he greeted gently. “I'm not here to hurt you. I'm going to unlock the door, okay?”

The woman watched him, wary. When he approached the door, she shrank back against the corner. He unlocked the door with a quick swipe, and pushed the door open. “Hey,” he said softly, “Can you walk?”

She nodded her head, but made no move to get up or leave. “Are you going to kill him?” she asked softly.

“No,” Corvo answered evenly. “I am taking him with me, when I go. He won't hurt you again,” he added.

She looked up at him, her face utterly blank. “You're an Aug too,” she said. “Someday they'll kill you.”

He inclined his head. “Maybe,” he agreed. “But they'd have to catch me first.” He offered her his flesh hand. “Come on,” he prodded gently. “You should get out of here, before the guards come.”

Her head lolled a little, but she took his hand, getting to her feet and following him out of the cage. “I can make it alone,” she said. “You should take him and go.” 

Reaching into his bag, Corvo pulled out a Remedy, pressing it into her hands. “Take care of yourself, Miss,” he said. 

She smiled a little. “You too.”

Corvo reached down and pulled Sokolov up, tossing him not-so-gently over his shoulder. “The way I came is clear of guards,” he said. “Good luck.”

He went out to the roof again, scanning for the best path toward Samuel. “Point me?” he asked the Outsider. 

The ball of light whipped out over the roof of the house next door, then plunged over the side.

Reafixing his mask, Corvo rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he muttered. “Every time.” 

Activating his leg Augments, Corvo dashed across the gap between the roofs, and crouched there, scanning the route. He could see the stern of Samuel’s boat, and sighing, he dropped off the roof to land on the sidewalk. 

He readjusted Sokolov on his shoulder and moved around the corner. 

Samuel smiled when he saw Corvo, though the expression dimmed when he saw Sokolov. “You did it!” he said. “Never doubted you.”

Corvo dropped Sokolov in the boat and tugged off his mask. “You don't sound so certain, Sam.”

He shrugged, steering the ship toward the open water. “I knew you could do it,” he said. “The world out there is terrible and getting worse. I worry.”

“I took a dip in the Wrenhaven,” Corvo said. “But that was the only real hiccup in the plan.” He leaned back against the seat. “Sokolov remains himself, at least. I'm sure things will be very interesting once we get back to the Pub.”

Samuel shot him a look. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.

Corvo glanced away, looking over Sokolov. “I'm not sure yet,” he said. “But I think we’re all going to find out sooner or later.”

*

“You should get some sleep, Corvo,” Havelock said pointedly, gesturing toward the top floor of the Pub. “Whatever you have Sokolov on won't wear off for a long time.”

Corvo hid his frown behind the mask. “I'm going to check on Emily,” he said firmly. “I'll sleep later.” When Havelock nodded and stepped aside, Corvo hurried into the Pub and up the stairs towards the tower. 

It was dark, and Emily was asleep, curled up in a ball under the covers. Callista, who sat in a rocking chair beside her, gestured him quiet and he knelt at Emily’s side. 

“She's been sleeping poorly,” Callista whispered. “Her dreams are restless.”

He nodded, reaching out and brushed Emily’s hair out of her face. “She's always been like that,” he said. “Jessamine too, when she was young.” 

“Mother?” Emily asked, her eyes open but unseeing. “Where's mother?”

Swallowing down a sudden and painful lump in his throat, Corvo rubbed his thumb over Emily’s cheek. “I'm sorry sweetheart,” he murmured. “It’s just me.”

She settled back in the bed, curling into his touch. “Daddy?” 

He could hear Callista gasp but Corvo ignored her. “I'm here, baby,” he responded. “Go to sleep, I'm right here.”

“Mm-hmm,” Emily mumbled, and curled her fingers around his. 

He pillowed his chin on the bed and hummed an old Serkonan lullaby, watching the frown between her eyes smooth out. He couldn't remember the lyrics but he'd been humming the song to her since before she was born.

For a minute, he was nearly blinded by the memory of kneeling in front of a pregnant Jessamine, humming the song into the soft swell of her belly when pain and exhaustion kept her from sleeping. 

His voice died with a choked sound, and he pulled away. “The rumors were true,” Callista said softly.

Corvo pressed his lips together, leaning down to kiss Emily’s forehead. “Does it matter?” Corvo asked, turning to look at her. “Whether she's mine or not, she's all I have left. I'm all  _ she _ has left.”

He stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “I understand,” Callista said quickly. “I won't say anything.”

He found a smile from somewhere and nodded once. “Thank you, Ms. Curnow.” Leaving both her and Emily to their rest, he made his way back to his attic bed.

“How are you feeling, Outsider?” he asked quietly, laying back on the bed.

<I am recovered,> the VI said. The staticky quality was gone from its voice.

“What happened when I fell in the Wrenhaven?” he asked. “I don't remember anything.”

<You suffered from a flashback,> it said. <Then you fell into a dissociative state.>

Corvo made an annoyed noise and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “These attacks are highly irritating.”

<They do interfere with your missions and put you at risk,> the Outsider mused. <Unfortunately, I do not believe there is any way to prevent them from happening.>

“I'm sorry,” Corvo muttered, ill tempered. “They put  _ your _ life at risk too.” 

<Your comfort is not completely unimportant to me, my Host. I have grown used to your mind.>

Corvo snorted, tossing his arm over his face. “That’s surprisingly comforting. I think.” He sighed. “I need -  _ we  _ need to get a handle on these panic attacks.”

<There are articles on the ‘Net on recognising and handling the panic,> the Outsider informed him after a brief pause. <Would you like me to link you to them? I can send them to your mask.>

“Sure,” Corvo murmured. “They can’t hurt, at least. It would help if I  _ knew  _ what specifically was causing them. I grew up in Karnaca, I love swimming and water. What was it about today that set me off? The interrogation chairs at least have a  _ reason _ .”

<You are not familiar with the techniques used to break a man’s mind, are you?>

Corvo’s breath caught in his throat, understanding suddenly slamming into him. “They waterboarded me,” he murmured. “When I was a soldier, a friend of mine was captured in action. He… didn’t survive, after. Couldn’t handle it.” He sat up, staring blankly at the dirty walls in front of him. “I’m just like him, now, aren’t I.”

<I believe your lack of memories may be helping you slightly in this regard,> the VI offered. It sounded almost unsure, as if it had no idea how to help but wanted to offer him some comfort nevertheless. <You have a high chance of survival. So far, you have proven far too stubborn succumb to fear.>

“And he didn’t have a live-in VI to help either,” Corvo said with a thread of amusement. “I can’t give in to fear, you know. I have Emily - and you - and this cause, for whatever that last part is worth. Who would protect Emily, if I’m gone?” 

<Clearly the only course is survival,> the Outsider said, sardonically. <Do try not to die, my Host.>

“Aw, I’m starting to feel like you care,” Corvo said, grinning to himself. 

<Of course not,> the Outsider retorted, primly. <I am a mere program, incapable of growing attached.>

Corvo’s grin only widened. “Ah, but you said you were ‘used to my mind’, not ten minutes ago. Sounds like attachment to me.” 

The VI made a staticky sound, not unlike an irritated huff. <’Used to’ and ‘attached’ are not the same. You are being irrational.>

“I’m human, I’m allowed.” Corvo sighed, clamoring to his feet and tugging off his jacket and boots. “Besides,” he added, folding the coat and draping it over a chair. “I’m grown rather attached to you too. Even though you bring me to strange places, and you have the disposition of a cranky toddler sometimes.” He grinned again, settling back on the bed. “Or a sarcastic one, at least.”

<I do  _ not _ ,> the Outsider snapped, showing a surprising amount of emotion for a self-professed program. <I am older than the rocks this city was built upon.>

He laughed, muffling the sound into the pillow, lest he draw too much attention from anyone wandering about. “Okay, Mr. Older than the Rocks, you might have more years on me but that doesn’t stop you from sounding like a toddler. Especially when you argue over it with me.” 

There was another staticky huff, one that felt like pins tapping the inside of Corvo’s skull. The Outsider fell silent, but this time didn’t withdraw. For a VI, it could certainly give off the impression that it was sulking.

Corvo paused for a minute, letting the VI stew but couldn’t resist one more poke. “... And now you’re sulking like one,” he added quickly.

<Well you did say I would learn human emotions from you, my Host,> it retorted, sounding smug.

He snorted another laugh. “Excuse you,” he said. “I have never sulked a day in my life.”

<What is it you said earlier? Was it ‘lies’? Oh dear, my data recall seems to be failing.>

“You know,” Corvo said, still laughing, “I guess we can now add ‘corrupting a VI’ to my list of sins. Is that a crime? I don’t remember anymore. But you, my friend, are most definitely corrupted. I don’t know whether I should be proud or apologize.”

<Your apologies are unnecessary,> the Outsider told him. <Of all the humans I could have been corrupted by, you have proven to be the best.>

Corvo smirked. “See?” he said, smug. “Told you that you were attached to me.”

<I admit nothing.>

“That’s as good as admitting something,” Corvo pointed out, rolling over and hitting the light switch, dropping the room into darkness. “We should get some sleep. It’s late, and I’m certain we’re going to have to deal with Anton in the morning, and we definitely don’t want to do that exhausted or unfocused.”

<Indeed. Goodnight, my Host.>

Pulling the covers up to his shoulders, Corvo murmured back, “Goodnight, Outsider.”

*

“Ah, Corvo, good! You're here,” Havelock boomed, and Corvo, hiding behind his mask, pulled a face. “We were just about to start.”

Sighing, Corvo tugged off his mask, turning to face Sokolov. “Hello, Anton,” he murmured. 

Sokolov’s eyes were a bit wide, but he scoffed. “I didn't expect  _ you _ to fall in with these… reprobates.”

Corvo rolled his eyes and leaned against the bars. “What's that saying about beggars and choosers?” he asked dryly. 

Havelock cleared his throat. “Sokolov, we have some questions,” he said loudly, ignoring Sokolov’s muttered ‘ _ of course you do’ _ . “You painted a woman,” Havelock said.

“Painted lots of women,” Sokolov said belligerently.

<I could show you the portraits,> the Outsider “helpfully” offered. Corvo had an idea what kind of portraits the famously promiscuous Sokolov would have painted, and hoped the VI was picking up on his horrified denial he was trying to send to it.

“ _ This one _ helped Hiram Burrows and funded his coup,” Havelock said, clearly no longer keeping his annoyance in check.

Sokolov laughed. “I have no idea what you're talking about, I assure you.”

Havelock snarled, slamming a hand against the bars of the cage. “Perhaps we can jog your memory,” he growled and strode over to a large box that was connected to the strange cage that Havelock put Sokolov in.

Corvo switched his sight to thermal imaging, and startled hard. “Havelock,” he warned.  

There were drones in the box.

Havelock however, ignored him, reaching for a lever. “I've heard infected drones can strip the flesh from a man in seconds,” Havelock said lightly. 

Corvo dashed, the world blurring around him, as he slid around Havelock and grabbed his wrist. “We are not torturing a man,” he snapped. “What are you even thinking? Go take some space, cool off. I'll handle Anton.” Havelock looked like he was going to protest but Corvo set his face in a glare. “Admiral. Go.”

Once Havelock had left the storage warehouse, Corvo turned back to Sokolov. “Are there really infected drones in there?” Sokolov asked. 

“Yes,” Corvo said shortly. “They won't be necessary.”

Sokolov leaned against the bars. “I'm surprised at you, Corvo. You already know I won't talk.” 

“I'm hoping you'll reconsider,” Corvo said, mirroring his pose. “Because the way I see it, really, is that you don't actually have a lot of choices. I can stop Havelock - for a little while. But eventually he'll lose patience with us both and do as he likes.” He tapped the bars. “I guess I could get you out too, but, that defeats the purpose of what I'm trying to do.” He met Sokolov’s eyes. “The woman you painted funded Burrows who somehow managed to bribe me into murdering the love of my life, Anton. I don't remember it, but it's there, plain and written in history.”

Sokolov startled, straightening up. “You don't remember?” he asked sharply. 

“... No,” Corvo answered him. “The guards at Coldridge stole my memories from me. The last thing I remember before waking up to escape is getting off the boat with Geoff.”

Sokolov stared at him for a long moment, his cheeks a pasty white beneath his beard. “Oh,” he said softly. “So it does work.”

Corvo's eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Anton?” he asked, sharp and concerned.

“I designed the machine that took your memories,” Sokolov said slowly. “It… was a failed prototype.”

Gritting his teeth, Corvo leaned in as close as he could get to Sokolov. “Clearly,” he ground out, “They got it working. Who did you paint, Sokolov?” he demanded. 

“It was a Boyle sister,” Sokolov muttered, refusing to meet Corvo's eyes. “I painted her from behind, I don't know which one she was. Only that she paid me handsomely for the mystery.”

He shoved away from the bars. “Thank you,” Corvo said keeping a tight hold to his anger, “For your cooperation.” Without waiting for Sokolov to reply, he stalked out of the building. Havelock waited by the door to the Pub, looming and visibly annoyed. “Boyle sister,” Corvo said to him on his way by. “Doesn't know which one.” 

He didn't wait for Havelock either, just climbed the stairs to the attic bedroom and just barely managed to not slam the door behind him. 

Though he'd never considered himself friends with Anton Sokolov, finding out he was indirectly responsible for the ruin of Corvo's mind was a bitter pill to swallow. 

“Did you know?” he asked the Outsider.

<I only have access to what is kept online,> the VI said. <Chances were that the foremost mind in neurosciences and robotics was responsible for it, but I didn’t have any definite proof.>

Corvo rubbed his face, digging his fingers through his hair. “I… I don’t know why this is making me so angry,” he admitted. “I am so tired, Outsider. So tired of people taking my agency from me, taking my memories, my mind. It barely feels like I’m a person.” He sighed again, leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head down. “That probably doesn’t make much sense to you. Sorry. I’m just… ranting.”

<I understand.>

Grateful to focus on something other than his spinning thoughts, Corvo frowned, turning his attention to the Outsider. “You do?” 

<Yes.> the Outsider said. <I have seen many things in my existence, and lack of agency is one of them.>

“I suppose you’d know that one the best,” Corvo murmured. “Considering.” He dug his fingers into his temples, trying to stave off the approaching headache, and said, “I guess I can’t really  _ blame _ Sokolov, however much I’d like to. That it was used on me wasn’t his fault.”

<He is at fault for creating it, though,> the Outsider added.

Corvo flinched, giving up on his temples. “I know,” he said quietly.  “This entire situation just makes my head hurt.” He stood up, stretching out his shoulders and trying to crack his neck. “Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll just end up going in circles. Let’s go find Emily, I’m sure she’s abandoned her lessons for the day already.” 

<As you wish, my Host.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troo: I like to imagine Corvo's pants say "JUICY" along the ass.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Troodon and my favorite Whaler: Gerome Burton.
> 
> Trigger Warning: some body horror, uncanny valley type things, and miscommunication between partners. If you are concerned about this, please do not read past the paragraph beginning with _Corvo held her, basking in the half dream..._ If you want to know what happens, without reading the content, I'll add a quick synopsis to the end notes. 
> 
> Please bear with us, we will fix all the things!

Jessamine had always complained that the Boyle Estate was too gaudy, even for their time. The floor of the room he wandered through changed colors with every step, but there were so many people waltzing and mincing about that it just looked a mess.

He took the glass of champagne offered to him, though he had no way to drink it without removing his mask. Instead he leaned against the corner of the room, tapping his fingers anxiously against the glass.

“What even is the point of a champagne fountain?” he asked the Outsider, staring at the opulent ceramic monstrosity in the middle of the table.

<It aerates the wine,> the VI told him. <This allows it to release esters and opens the flavour.> There was a pause, then it continued, sounding slightly judgemental, <You should really be drinking it within half an hour of uncorking, though.>

He snorted, shaking his head. “So considering I’ve been here for an hour, the champagne is probably flat and terrible now?” he asked, regarding the glass in his hand.

<From what I’ve read on various sites, terrible champagne is a staple of these sorts of soirees. As are too-small canapes,> it added as a platter passed by with thumbnail-sized shrimp puffs.

Corvo laughed softly and put the glass down on a nearby table. “Is the drink not to your likin’?” An abrasive voice asked from his shoulder, and Corvo whirled, more startled than he’d like to admit. Due to the sheer amount of people in the estate, he’d turned off H.E.A.R.T.’s warning system, not wanting to be inundated with constant proximity warnings.

“Uh..” Corvo said, eyeing the servant who had come up to him. He didn’t hold himself like a servant, his shoulders a touch too broad, his stance aggressive and, just under the tightly buttoned sleeve, several tattoos could be seen. The knuckles holding a silver tray of miniature kale quiches were scarred.

He thumbed the Audio Dampener, and cleared his throat. “Champagne isn’t really my style,” he admitted with a shrug. “And it’s impossible to drink through this mask.”

“You don’t seem the fancy type,” the servant said frankly, and Corvo snorted. “You got a preference? I can get you somethin’ else.”

Corvo shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I still can’t drink through the mask.”

Behind the worryingly realistic hagfish teeth, the servant grinned. “Could get you a straw,” he offered.

“Sipping whiskey through a straw, hm?” Corvo asked, amused despite himself. “That would look ridiculous.”

The servant - though Corvo doubted he was actually a servant - shrugged one shoulder. “I know where they keep the good stuff,” he said. “The kitchens are off this way, if you want it.” When he turned, the moving jaws of the hagfish mask revealed the shadow of a facial scar, and Corvo was more convinced than ever that the servant was actually one of Slackjaw’s men.

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed. Corvo fell into step with him, edging past the Overseer by the door and down into the kitchens. Considering the layout of the building, Corvo committed the path to memory, just in case.

There was a room off to the side of the kitchen, empty but for barrels and crates, and the smell of liquor was strong. The servant nudged the door closed with a foot, put the tray down on a crate, and rifled through one of the boxes behind it. “Here,” he said, coming up with an unopened bottle of Old Dunwall’s Finest, “You need me to get you a straw?”

Corvo eyed him for a long moment. “You’re one of Slackjaw’s boys, aren’t you?” he asked.

The man froze, before he finally shrugged and nodded. “What gave it away?” he asked.

“Tattoos, scarred knuckles, street accent, you seeking me out,” Corvo listed off. He popped the cork on the bottle, gesturing with it. “It just makes drinking this easier,” he said. “If it helps, no one else would have noticed.” He unhooked his mask, tossing it on the crate next to him to take a sip of the whiskey.

After a few long pulls, he handed the bottle over to the servant. “Thanks…” the man said, sounding wary.

Corvo nodded. “You got a name? I can keep calling you Slackjaw’s thug if you like but.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve realized I’m here under false pretenses.”

“Gerome,” he introduced, between sips of whiskey. “I fuckin’ hate this shit,” he added, hand waving at the ceiling, towards the bulk of the party. “I’m only here ‘cause one of our… younger members is here doing fuckin’ recon, and he’s just a kid.” He handed back the bottle, leaning against the door.

“I understand,” Corvo said. “I’m doing recon myself,” he said. “One of the Ladies Boyle… she funded Burrows, and that money was used to pay me to murder…” he trailed off. “It was her money that was promised to me. I’m here to find her, though I don’t know which Lady it is.”

Gerome startled badly, and through the awkward hagfish teeth, Corvo could see his jaw drop. “Fucksticks,” he swore softly. “And what’re you goin’ to do with her once you find her?” he asked.

“That,” Corvo said, taking another healthy sip of whiskey, “Is a good question.” He tapped his fingers against the bottle, thinking it over. “I suppose… my current employers will want her dead… or gone, somehow. But I’ve found my taste for killing is well, non-existent. I’d like to remove her from play without hurting her, but honestly I’m not certain who she is, or how to do that.”

“I’ll help,” Gerome said instantly. “Everyone up there thinks I’m a fuckin’ servant, I can blend.”

Corvo gave him a considering look. “Sure,” he said. “What’s your kid wearing, the one you’re keeping an eye on. I’ll do the same, in return. Blend, mingle, see what we can find and meet back here in… an hour?”

Behind the mask, Corvo could see Gerome’s lips twist into a smirk. “He’s a fuckin’ peacock. Kid’s incapable of not bein’ the best lookin’ of the lot.”

“I knew a few people like that,” Corvo said, amused. “Alright, kid in a peacock mask. I’ll keep an eye on him.” He handed back the bottle. “One last swallow left. All yours.”

“Cheers,” Gerome said, raising the bottle in a sardonic salute.

Corvo smiled. “Cheers,” he said back. “See you in an hour.” He snagged his mask off the crate and tightened the strap, turning off the audio dampener. None of the servants commented on his leaving the store room, and the Overseer by the door was gone when he got back to the main room.

The kid was easy to find, once Corvo started looking for him, the spray of blue and green feathers connected to a blinking birds mask was distinctive enough. He was small, narrow of shoulder and hip, and clearly uncomfortable.

He’d wedged himself between an armchair and the bookshelf, as a man leaned over him, arm on the edge of one of the shelves. Corvo’s eyes narrowed and he edged closer, tuning his audio implants to pick up their conversation.

“... have a state of the art system for such things,” the man was saying to Gerome’s charge. “I promise you’ll have the night of your life.”

“Oh shit,” Corvo swore, halting his progression toward them. “Is that _Bunting?_ ”

<I do believe that is,> the Outsider said, fizzing away with amusement. <How… shocking.>

Groaning obnoxiously, Corvo turned off the audio dampener, and strode over to the two. He gracefully inserted himself between them, tugging the kid away from Bunting. “So sorry,” he said, “but I’ve been looking all over for you,” he added, turning his attention to the kid. “He’s with me,” he said to Bunting, glad for the mask that hid his mortified expression.

Tugging the not-unwilling kid behind him, Corvo moved away from the room, and let the kid get his bearings again. “Thanks,” he said, his voice pleasant and clearly noble. “He wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

Corvo nodded. “Your friend Gerome sent me,” he said. “Thought you could use a rescue.”

The kid relaxed fully. “Gerome’s here?” he asked. “Why am I surprised, of course he’s here. He never lets me go anywhere alone.”

“Well, happy to help,” Corvo said. “I’ve had… dealings with Bunting before, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Feel free to seek me out if anyone else gets handsy.”

<I thought our action with Bunting to be rather stimulating, didn’t you?>

Corvo flinched behind his mask, scowling and unable to answer. “Thanks again,” the kid said. “If you see Gerome again, tell him I said to back off.” He was smiling as he said it though and Corvo nodded. “Enjoy the party, sir.”

As soon as the kid had walked away, Corvo slammed his thumb on the button to turn the audio back off. “Would you _stop bringing that up_?” he groaned.

<Why would you want to forget such an electrifying encounter, my Host?> Corvo was almost certain he hadn’t been the one to introduce the program to puns. Right now he was regretting introducing it to humour entirely.

“I am never speaking to you again,” Corvo said flatly.

He moved into the library, avoiding the servant holding out more terrible champagne, and nearly crashed into a man wearing what looked like a poor representation of a rat on his face. The beady eyes moved rapidly, and it’s nose twitched and Corvo recoiled. “Ah,” the man said, a slight lisp or slur adorning his tone. “I’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

Corvo turned off the dampener again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Were you?” he asked.

The rat man nodded enthusiastically. “You’re here about…” He lowered his voice. “The coup. You see, it is my _love_ who supplied the money, and I know you’re here to kill her. I beg of you, Mr. Attano, please allow her to live!”

Tilting his head to one side, Corvo frowned. “And why should I?” he asked.

“Because I’ll take her away from here,” he said quickly. “You may call me Lord Brisby, I have a manor and an estate just outside of Dunwall, she’d be safe and out of the way there. You don’t need to kill her. Just take Esma to the basement, and I’ll sneak her out of the city.”

Something about the request didn’t sit quite right but Corvo made a considering noise anyway. “I don’t know if you noticed,” he said slowly, “but I don’t know which Lady is which.”

“My beloved Esma is in white,” Brisby said. “Please, just think about it. I’ll meet you in the basement. Please.”

As soon as Brisby had vanished around the corner, Corvo turned his attention to his VI. “Is there any record of Esma Boyle and this Lord Brisby ever being seen together? Or interacting in anyway?” he asked.

<Searching,> the Outsider said. A few seconds later, a file appeared in his HUD. <Sent video file of Timothy Brisby following Lady Esma Boyle and her daughter to school. Attached is a restraining order against him, as well as several other, similar incidents.>

“A _restraining order_ ?” Corvo hissed. “What the - he can’t be serious. There is no way, no.” He checked the clock, and moved towards the basement, wondering if Gerome had found out anything interesting. “We need to come up with something else,” he muttered to the Outsider. “I’m not delivering Esma Boyle to her _stalker_ , I don’t care what she’s done.”

<Understood,> the Outsider said. <I suggest you find Gerome and give him your findings. Perhaps he has found a better way.>

“Let’s hope,” he murmured, and slipped into the storage room.

Gerome had beaten him there, his mask off and sitting on the floor. He was older than Corvo expected, with several scars over his face. “Well,” Gerome said stridently as soon as Corvo pushed the door shut. “Found out that Waverly’s in Red, and Lydia’s in Black, but that does fuck all for you.”

Pulling off his own mask, Corvo sighed. “I found my target,” he said with a bitter twist. “It’s Esma, who is wearing white, and…” He trailed off for a second, searching for the words. “I was approached by a Lord Timothy Brisby, who begged me to spare Esma’s life, as they are… in love, he promised to take her away from here, get her out of the city.” He shook his head. “I did a little searching and she filed a restraining order against him.”

Gerome’s lip curled in a vicious sneer. “Some of the girls at the Cat have complained about him. He’ll fixate on ‘em and follow them every-fuckin’-where. No one does anything ‘bout it ‘cause fuckin’ _nobles_ don’t give a shit about the common folk.” Then he smiled a shark’s smile. “I really fuckin’ hope you ain’t thinkin’ about givin’ her over to him.”

Corvo made a face. “I know that I’m largely regarded as a monster, but there’s no way in hell I’m giving Esma Boyle to Timothy Brisby,” he said firmly.

“You’re a noble,” Gerome said, as if that was proof of his monstrosity and lack of morals. Although, knowing the nobility of Dunwall as he did, Corvo found it hard to fault him.

He frowned at Gerome. “I am not.”

Gerome shrugged. “Well, I guess gettin’ stripped of your title would change things, but you spent a fuck-long time rubbin’ elbows with the upper class.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Corvo said, amused despite himself. “But I can’t say that I was ever very good at playing the part. I might have been the Empress’ bodyguard, but she only chose me to piss off Euhorn, considering how common my birth was.” He shook his head. “Either way, I’m still not giving Esma Boyle up to a stalker. She might have financed my assassination, but no one deserves that. Nor does her little girl.”

Just like that, the threat went out of Gerome’s stance. Corvo had no idea how a man could look threatening whilst lounging against some crates, but the thug pulled it off, somehow. “So we tell her she’s got a real threat against her and her daughter’s life. Fuck knows it’s true. We got a genuine assassin sent after her.”

“That could work,” he said. “I can get her alone, win their little guessing game, and bring her to you here. As long as she and Brisby never come into contact, then she's safe from him,” Corvo added.

Gerome nodded. “You just leave Brisby to me,” he growled. “I’ll keep him out of the way.”

“... Fine,” Corvo said. “I'll assume you know how to keep something like this out of the newsfeeds. But Esma will need to disappear _tonight_ if what we’re proposing is going to work.”

Gerome flapped a flippant hand. “Just be the fucked-up, murdering assassin everyone thinks you are. ‘Cept without the actual murder. Scare her enough an’ she’ll run. Simple.”

Corvo looked away, focusing his eyes on a crate instead of Gerome’s amused expression. “Only ever murdered one person,” he said quietly. “But sure. Yeah. Might as well play a monster.”

An awkward silence descended. Gerome shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the display of emotion, and having no idea how to help.

“I'll go get Esma,” Corvo said. “And by the way, your friend in the Peacock mask says to butt out.” He summoned up a smile from somewhere. “I'll be back soon. Hopefully with Esma.”

He tugged his mask back on, and slipped back out into the kitchen, heading up to the main room. Esma was easy to find, her white outfit too bright under the lights and her hair escaping from under the hat she was wearing. He reached out and touched her elbow gently, getting her attention.

“I do love your mask,” Esma said, giggling drunkenly. She leaned forward to touch it, and Corvo stiffened. “It's so realistic.”

Corvo caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers and bowing over it, as one might have done years ago. “I have figured out your game,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard over the music.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding delighted. “And what's my name, handsome stranger?”

“I name you Esma Boyle, the Lady in White,” he answered, not letting go of her hand.

Esma laughed, nodding. “Very clever,” She said. “And what would you like as a prize, hm? No one else has guessed, so you get first pick.”

Corvo paused for a second, reading the tilt in her body and the jut of her hip and said slowly, “Why don't we go somewhere more private?”

She linked their fingers, laughing again. “Oh, you're far more interesting than any other man here. Shall we go to my room, handsome?”

“How about the basement?” Corvo asked instead, tugging her gently.

Esma followed him without protest, slipping in front of him when they reached the door, leading him down the stairs. “This is very naughty,” She slurred. “Are you going to tie me up?”

Corvo snorted. “I'm usually the one tied up,” he corrected automatically.

Esma paused and he froze, mortified. “Really?” Esma purred, tightening her grip on his hand. “I can work with that.”

The Outsider was fizzing in his head. Corvo had the distinct impression it was laughing _at_ him this time.  <It seems I’m going to receive even more education. My, this _has_ been an enlightening few days. >

There was a sudden predatory grace to Esma, as she began backing him into the corner. “I've never tied a man up before,” She said. “You really are interesting.”

Alarmed, Corvo pulled her close and turned them towards the door where Gerome waited. “This way, Miss Boyle,” he said hastily.

She let him manhandle her, and Corvo relaxed as soon as the door closed behind them. “Oh,” Esma said, seeing Gerome. “Two for the price of one? I can work with that.”

“No,” Corvo yelped over the sound of Gerome cackling. “No, Miss Boyle, that's not what's going on here.”

“So he's just going to watch? That's fine too,” Esma said with a shrug.

Corvo turned to Gerome. “Stop laughing and help me here!”

“Thought I wasn’t goin’ to join in?” He teased, still chortling around a lit cigarette. “Don’t wanna ruin your fun, boyo.” He then paused and looked inexplicably disgusted with himself.

Esma patted Corvo's hip, hooking her fingers into his belt. “You can help me tie him up,” she told Gerome, who started howling with laughter again.

“This… is the best day,” he wheezed. “Fuckin’ _best_.”

Not quite sure how he'd managed to get into this situation, Corvo sighed, untangling Esma’s fingers and stepping away. “Any other situation, I might be happy to let you tie me up, Miss Boyle.” He ignored the Outsider’s murmur of <Oh you would, would you?> “But I'm afraid I brought you here under false pretenses. Your life is in danger.”

Esma paused, and she pulled off her mask. Her blonde hair was mussed and her face was pale under her make up. “My life?”

“A man approached me,” Corvo said. “He attempted to bribe me into getting you alone, specifically to bring you to him. He introduced himself as Timothy Brisby.”

She swayed alarmingly, and sat down on a nearby crate. “I imagine if you're telling me this, that means you turned him down.”

Corvo nodded. “He believes I accepted his proposal. But my friend here and I are willing to help smuggle you out of the city instead.”

She nodded, chewing on her lip. “Elaine is away at the moment, I can join her and leave Dunwall behind. If Brisby has escalated to kidnapping, she's not safe either.”

“Probably not, no,” Corvo agreed. “He didn't seem inclined to take no for an answer.”

“There's an entrance to the canal below us,” Esma said. “I can take my father's boat and get to the ‘Rail from there. I'll be out of the city by dawn.”

Relieved, Corvo nodded. “Let us check out the rest of the basement for you. I'll be back in five minutes.” He turned towards the still grinning Gerome. “Behave.”

Gerome tried to look innocent. He failed miserably. His was not a face for innocence, and probably came out of the womb looking shifty.

Turning off the Audio on his mask again, Corvo slipped out the door and headed deeper into the basement. “And not a word out of you either,” he grumbled at the Outsider.

<I would never,> the VI deadpanned.

“Yes you would, you absolutely would,” Corvo said. “You can't fool me.”

He pulled open the gate to the cellar, and ducked into the shadows of the corner as he spotted Brisby pacing back and forth in front of a boat in the small canal entrance. It was clearly his own, covered in pillows and blankets and Corvo spotted a bottle of wine as well. His stomach turned and he Dashed up behind Brisby, wrapping him up in a Tyvian chokehold.

Once Brisby stopped moving and slumped unconscious in his grasp, Corvo hauled him into a small alcove, stashing him behind a barrel.

Assured that no one could see him from the main room, Corvo went back up to where he'd left Esma and Gerome. “It's safe,” he said, turning on Audio. “Come on.”

Esma took his arm, letting him walk her down the stairs. “Thank you for this,” she said quietly, all trace of drunkenness gone from her face. “You've saved my life, and the life of my daughter.”

Corvo nodded. “I have a daughter myself,” he admitted. “Don't waste your chance, Ms. Boyle.”

She smiled up at him. “You know, it really is too bad we don't have any time for fun,” She commented, getting into the boat. “I can think of so many interesting ways to use that gate.”

“Good _bye_ , Ms. Boyle,” Corvo said. “Good luck.”

He watched her pilot Brisby’s boat out into the canal, and turned to go back to Gerome. Once safely in the storeroom again he tugged off his mask. “I left Brisby down there,” he said. “Knocked him unconscious and stashed  him in an alcove.”

Gerome smiled a slow, lupine grin and saluted him with his cig. “Gottit,” he said. “Nice work, kid.”

Corvo smiled a little. “Thanks for your help, Gerome. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't approached me.”

“You seem like you got some smarts,” Gerome said, taking a drag from his cig. “You’d’ve figured it out. Now get the fuck out. I’ll take care of clean-up.”

He nodded. “Maybe I'll see you again,” he offered. “Thanks again, Gerome.” He pulled on his mask and slipped back up to the party. He waved at Gerome’s partner when their eyes met, and then disappeared out into the city proper.

It was easy to find Sam after that, with most of the guard, including several robotic tallboys, paying more attention to the streets around the Boyle estate.

This one he counted as a win.

*

On some level, he knew he was dreaming. Jessamine was warm and sleepy in his arms, and he could count on one hand the amount of times they'd managed to wake up next to each other.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her loose hair, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Her low laugh rumbled through his chest and he could feel her hands as they wrapped around his, linking their fingers tightly.

She said something, but it was muffled and lost to him, but he recognized her voice and tightened his grip. If this was a dream, he wanted never to wake up.

Corvo held her, basking in the half memory, half dream quality until Jess rolled over in his arms. She was fuzzy around the edges, as though she wasn’t quite real but when she kissed him, it was everything like he remembered. She leaned over him, her fingers encircling his wrists and though he could easily break her hold, Corvo relaxed against the bed, leaning up only to kiss her.

She smiled down at him, and Corvo’s chest locked up with grief and want. Whatever Jessamine saw on his face made her kiss him again, and the dreamy, languorous quality of the dream changed around him.

Clothing melted away around them, and Jessamine was pressed bare skin to bare skin. She grinned at him - a familiar expression that reminded him of better days - and she slipped over him, sitting at his waist. “I’ve missed you,” she said, the first clear thing he’d heard her say.

“I’ve missed you too,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss her again. “So much.”

She laughed against his throat, pressing a kiss there, before biting down. It had been so long since anyone had really touched him - and Corvo gripped her hips tightly in his hands.

Jessamine laughed, running her hands down his arms and tugging on his fingers until he let go. “Ah-ah,” she said, warm and low, “You know better.”

He grinned at her, bringing their joined hands to kiss her fingers. “Maybe I need a reminder,” he said, and she laughed again, pressing him down against the bed. She placed his hands just above his head, fingers brushing the headboard.

“Now, now,” Jess murmured, biting his collarbone. “Just leave those up there.” Corvo settled back against the bed, just watching her face, drinking in her expressive eyes and amused expression. She slid down the bed, pressing kisses to his skin haphazardly, and grinned when he grumbled at her. “Patience is a virtue, my Corvo,” she said, and sank down on him without warning.

Corvo gasped, and choked on whatever he’d been about to say, gripping the headboard in both hands. Jessamine did most of the work - controlling the pace, and pressure. The world around them fuzzed and faded, and the bedroom that Jessamine had kept in the Tower melted away.

She leaned down and kissed him, distracting him from the changing landscape, and Corvo tightened his grip on the headboard. “Jess,” he whispered against her lips, as pleasure turned his blood to syrup and everything felt tight and overwarm.

Corvo opened his eyes and found himself looking into endless black, instead of Jess’ usual blue. Her normal, gentle smile was twisted into a lifeless parody, like a machine trying to ape human expressions.

The warm lassitude suffusing him fled with a spike of pure terror, and Corvo scrambled upward on the bed, dislodging “Jess”, and accidentally smacking his head on the wall. “What the- who the - _fuck_. Give her back,” he begged, pulling away from the illusion still kneeling on the bed.

<You’re not pleased?> A voice asked in his head, while Jess’ lips moved soundlessly. A very familiar voice.

Corvo’s heart stopped, and his chest ached with it. “No,” he said, anger beginning to replace the fear. “No, Outsider, I’m not pleased. Get rid of it! Get rid of her.”

<You wanted her back,> it protested. “Jess” crawled forward, but the movements were wrong. Too graceful at times, then jerky and stilted.

Corvo scrambled off to the bed, putting some distance between him and the strange illusory “Jess”. He shook his head, backing away. “I do,” he said quickly, urgently. “I’d give my own life if I could have Jess back - the _real_ Jess - not… Not this.”

“Jess” looked down at itself. <I did construct her from your memories. This form should be just right.>

He closed his eyes. “Outsider, _please_. Make her - it - go away.”

Jessamine’s body wavered, then changed.

<Does this form please you better, my Host?> The Outsider asked through a naked, hungry-eyed Martin. Again, faint details were off. Martin’s teeth seemed sharper, his face more gaunt, his body angular with hunger and madness. This was not the charismatic Overseer he’d known.

“No!” he barked. “Enough of this. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but _stop it_. I don’t want any of that. Not her, not him, and not this!” He stormed over to the small dresser where he’d dropped his clothing, tugging them on harshly. “When I turn around,” he said, low and deadly, fighting a swell of nausea, “I want it gone, do you understand me, Outsider?”

<Fine.> Corvo’s skin felt clammy and cold, despite the rage warming him from the inside. <I fail to see why you’re being so unreasonable. You enjoyed my aid a few nights ago. Quite a bit, I recall.>

Corvo whirled towards the bed, but found it empty. “Oh no,” he said sharply. “That was different. That was _you_ , as you. You didn’t reach into my head and use my memory of Jessamine against me - I only have a few good memories of her left, and I-- Do I get to keep nothing of her?” He looked away from the bed, unable to shake the image of her hollow eyed smile.

<I thought that my version was an improvement. Perhaps I should try again later, when you’re more rational.>

Rage flared red hot through him before turning a frigid cold. Corvo shook his head, arming himself, and hooking the mask to his belt.

“No thank you,” he said, icily. “We’re done here.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Corvo realizes he's dreaming of Jessamine, he begins to wake up. In order to prolong his happiness/pleasure, the Outsider makes Corvo See Jessamine after he's already begun to wake up. When Corvo asks him to stop, the Outsider doesn't understand and continues to push. Once Corvo's made himself clear, the encounter ends with anger and confusion on both sides.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Several days passed before Havelock approached him with a plan. “Now that Martin has returned from the Feast of Painted Kettles, and he’s been named High Overseer, it’s time to strike Burrows down,” he said eagerly. “He’s not expecting you, you can take him out before he even knows you’re there.”

Corvo inclined his head. “What’s your plan?” he asked. 

“We can bribe the waterlock guards to look the other way, get Samuel to take you in there. It’ll give you a solid entrance and exit point,” Havelock said. 

It also put him as far from the Tower as humanly possible, Corvo noted, looking down at the map over the table. “Is there anything special I should know?” he asked, after Havelock had finally stopped pontificating. 

“Piero has a few things for you,” Havelock said, sounding pleased. “Samuel is ready whenever you are.”

Corvo nodded, and slipped away, putting on his mask and walking over to the workshop. “Ah, Corvo,” Piero said, moving around the ancient drill installed in the middle of the room. “I’m glad you stopped by. When I was going over your armor from the last time you… went out, I found those syringes, the  _ flunitrazepam  _ compound? I synthesized more with the resources I had available, and added them to your jacket lining.”

“Thanks,” Corvo said slowly. “I think.” 

A quick check yielded ten different syringes, and Corvo lifted both eyebrows in surprise. To his credit, Piero blushed, looking uncomfortable. “It’s simple chemistry,” he protested. “I’m aware of how it works.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Corvo said, and smoothed down his jacket. “Is there anything else?”

Piero nodded, picking up a small box off the table and flipping it open. “I’ve modulated the audio dampener I used for the mask, and I can retrofit them onto your boots. It’ll make you near silent when walking or running, which I imagine will come in handy where you’re going.”

Corvo nodded, watching Piero work. He knelt at Corvo’s feet, sliding a long needle into the heel of Corvo’s boot, and tapped a few lines of code into a nearby tablet before nodding. “You’re all set.”

He blinked. “That was fast.”

That made Piero smile, and he patted Corvo on the arm. “My inventions are very user friendly,” he said kindly. “Good luck, Corvo.”

Blowing out a breath, Corvo nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” He didn’t add ‘I hope’ but it was probably noticeable regardless.    
Wandering out of the workshop, he let his absent mind bring him to Emily where she sat on the stone gate. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, looking down at her lap. “Again.”

“Yes,” Corvo said, because he’d never lied to her. 

“Will you come back?” she asked, finally looking over at him. The hope and devastation warred on her face and Corvo pulled her into a tight hug.

“I will try,” he promised. 

Emily pushed his mask up onto the top of his head to take his face in her small, cold hands. “Remember,” she instructed firmly, “You mustn’t be seen. And the guards don’t look up.”

He smiled, the first in days. “I remember,” he said. “No one ever looks up.” This last part they said together, an oft repeated phrase back before the bad days, when Jessamine indulged Corvo’s paranoia and let him teach Emily how to creep from dark corner to dark corner. 

Thinking of Jessamine still made his throat hurt and his stomach turn with sharp and sour nausea, and he took Emily’s hands, holding them between his gloved ones. “Emily,” he said seriously and her face crumpled briefly. “I need you to hear this,” he said and she nodded reluctantly. “If I don’t return, you mind Callista, and Admiral Havelock. You’ll survive.”

“Daddy,” she whispered, and he dragged her in for another hug. 

“I love you, baby,” he said quietly. “Stay strong. This will all be over soon.”   
She held him for a beat more before pushing away, dashing tears with the back of her head. “You come back to me, Corvo Attano,” she said firmly, no trace of sorrow in her voice. Then she turned and bolted back into the Hound Pits. 

Corvo tugged the mask back over his face, and walked over to where Samuel was waiting, a knowing look in his eyes. He took a deep breath, the words ‘ _ ready, Outsider? _ ’ caught in his throat. They hadn’t spoken since their altercation over Jessamine and Martin, and if his Augments hadn’t still worked flawlessly, Corvo might have thought the VI had abandoned him.

He pressed his lips together, swallowing the words back, and said nothing at all.

*

Climbing the Waterlock was both easily done and annoyingly difficult, to Corvo's chagrin. The set up itself was simple, with plenty of handholds to climb, but the late winter air and frigid water made his flesh hand go numb and his toes were like ice. 

He leapt nimbly, if not gracefully from space to space, the Augments in his legs activating without comment. He could only hope that his panic would stay down this time, saving him from any conversation or intervention. He certainly wasn't going to break the silence first - the Outsider owed him an apology first.

The main security area above him was sparsely populated, with bored or sleepy guards that Corvo snuck by on silence-augmented boots. He leapt from the floor to a chair and up out of a high window, clinging to the outside and looking around. 

He had a couple of ways available to him, he could cross the gazebo and head down into the lower security annex, or cross the yard on the other side and climb the scaffolding to scale the Tower itself.

He dropped down to the ground, keeping himself broad and low, before getting up to the gazebo. The annex was more familiar to him, and it would lead him straight into the side stairs that would go to the top of the Tower. 

Corvo paused in the center of the gazebo, eyes drawn instantly to the hologram of Jessamine, her form made of hardlight and science. She was reaching out to something, her figure flickering slightly in the evening light. Her tombstone was clean, covered in roses, and Corvo knelt by it, brushing his fingers over the words there.  _ Loving mother, loving Empress. _

“I'm sorry,” he whispered to her unmoving figure. “I love you.”

Neither the hologram - or the Outsider - commented. 

He left the reminder behind, dropping down into the bushes and hiding from the tallboy that patrolled by the door to the Annex. As soon as it had turned to walk away, Corvo dashed across the courtyard, skidding to a stop by the door. It was cracked open, and the strong smell of Cullero cigarillos floated toward him on the chill breeze. 

Thanking whatever might be listening that Security Chief Harrison was still smoking two packs a day, Corvo let himself into the office. Harrison was sitting with his back to the video cameras - fortunately - but facing the door.

“Ah,” Harrison said. “Wondered when you were going to show up.” 

Corvo turned off the Dampener but didn't remove the mask. “You going to get in my way, Harrison?” he asked steadily.

Harrison snorted, lighting another cigarillo. “Not on my life,” he said. “I value my skin. You may as well go on, I didn't see you, you didn't see me. Don't die, Attano.”

Corvo made a considering face and nodded. “Thanks, Harry,” he said quietly. Harrison just pointed to the door that led into the Tower. Laughing softly, Corvo crossed the room and ducked into the stairwell. 

At the base, there was a security box that Corvo hacked into without calling on his recalcitrant VI, thankfully, but found that it was only for the alarm boxes threaded throughout the stairs. If there were any other security measures, he'd have to stumble upon them blindly and take care of them in the moment. 

Carefully and slowly, Corvo slipped up the stairs, pausing at each landing. Two guards were easily knocked unconscious but the Arc Pylon sitting at the entrance to the Royal Floor was a definite problem. 

Corvo crouched just out of range, eyeing the power cords that ran down the stairs and up the walls.

The box was visibly above him, right in the center of the projector’s range. Of course. 

Instead Corvo used his butterfly knife to slice open one of the power cords, digging through the contents with his prosthetic hand, looking for the main power line. 

It took some time, Corvo wasn't the most proficient in hacking, and he wasn't going to ask for help, but he found it eventually, and sliced through it. 

The Arc Pylon popped once, and the dangerous curls of electricity died. Putting away the knife, Corvo moved into the corridor, coming up short when the door to the Royal chambers was locked and sealed.

He'd forgotten about the palm print locks.

Burrows had insisted on them around the time Emily had been born, making all the major areas only accessible to people who had their palms scanned into the system. 

There were no boxes to hack into, no wires to expose. 

He was stuck in the hall, or he had to go up another level and climb down the wall. 

Unless… Corvo tugged off his glove, pressing his right palm to the pad, and held his breath. 

The access light turned green. 

Corvo nearly collapsed in relief; Burrows had never removed him from the system. He closed the door quietly behind him, heading towards the library. 

The library had an open fireplace plan, but there hadn't been real fire in it for years. He could slip between the rooms without needing to unlock the doors.

It rankled and stung that his old room, comfortable and well used now served as Burrows quarters. Moving from window to window, Corvo rounded the corner and paused, waiting for a patrol to walk by. 

He could see the library door ten feet down the hall, and as soon as the guards had turned away, he Dashed. 

The library door was unlocked, and when Corvo slid inside, he frowned. The old piano was covered in a drop sheet, and the books were covered in dust, and the room smelled of sweetly rotting fruit. 

It seemed the most loved and well used room in the Tower had gone ignored without Emily there to give it life. 

Crouching and ducking through the wall, Corvo took in his old bedroom. All his things were gone, and the walls had been repainted a sparkling white. 

It looked plastic and fake, as though no one real lived in it. The only thing that hadn't changed was the old fashioned heavy safe in the corner and Corvo wandered over to it. He assumed Burrows would have changed the passcode, but he wondered if Burrows would have bothered digging out the manual to do so.

Corvo spun the combination lock in well practiced movements, setting the lock into the correct pattern. 

When the door swung open on well oiled hinges, Corvo's estimation of Burrows went down another several hundred points. 

All the things he'd kept in there were gone, of course, but what he did find made his breath catch. An Audio Log disc, and under that a small data drive, labeled  _ C.A. Memories. _

His memories, Burrows had kept a genetic copy of his memories. He could finally know what happened that day, what made him snap, why he'd taken Jessamine’s life. He could fill the hole in his heart and in his head. With shaking hands, he took them both and stashed them in his pocket. 

Burrows wasn't in the room so Corvo went for the next best area: the Tower radio station. Before he'd become Regent, Burrows had spent much of his time up there, connecting to and listening to the various sound waves and bytes that floated through Dunwall.

Using the balcony off Burrows -  _ his  _ \- room, he tapped his leg to overclock his leg Augments, he took two steps backwards for momentum and leapt.

He cleared the open space between the balcony and the corridor with little issue, sliding to a stop on the marble floor, and posting off the wall. There was a gentle spike of concern, crowding the back of his head for a second, and Corvo paused, waiting for the Outsider to speak. A moment passed without note, and the presence faded again.

Corvo sighed, but didn’t otherwise react, moving into the stairwell. He was so distracted by the spike of the Outsider’s presence, that he didn’t notice when a Guard rounded the corner. “What the  _ fuck _ !” the Guard yelped, and Corvo startled like a novice. 

He scrambled for his sword, but the Guard was already swinging. Corvo dodged, not quite smoothly, and spun to get around the Guard attacking him.

Their swords met with a clang, and Corvo fumbled with his pocket, seeking out one of the hyposprays. He didn’t know if the Outsider was even aware of the fight, and couldn’t depend on it to activate the electric pulse, and Corvo wasn’t going to die outside his rightful bedroom inside his daughter’s tower like a dog. 

His fingers closed on the hypospray and Corvo parried another swing before stabbing the syringe into the Guard’s thigh.

It wasn’t very elegant, but it got the job done. 

Unlike when he’d taken the leap of faith, the Outsider didn’t stir at all. Corvo bowed his head, and let himself regret, for one moment, before pushing away from the collapsed guard. 

Pain speared down his side and into his hip and Corvo blinked down in surprise.  He touched his stomach gently, and his hand came away wet with blood. 

Moving up the stairs slowly - he couldn’t afford another Guard to stumble upon him - he dug out his only elixir, and sipped at it.

His thermal vision flicked on as he crested the stairs, his side still healing and knitting together with flashes of heat and itchiness. There was only one person in the sound booth, and Corvo nudged the door open with his shoulder. 

The announcer leapt to his feet, hands up in the universal gesture for surrender. “Corvo,” he said anxiously.

“Harper,” Corvo said back, leaning heavily against the door. “Where’s Burrows?”

“He’s with the General of the Army,” Harper said quickly. “Look, Corvo, you need to break into his safe - er, your safe - and get the audio log. I was in the stairs when he recorded it. He’s the one that started the virus that made all the drones go crazy, he admits it all. You can clear your name!”

Corvo found a smile from somewhere, and pulled out the audio log. “You mean this?” 

The announcer grinned, taking it from him and popping it into the sound system. “Here,” he said. 

Burrows voice burst out of the speakers, too loud and nasal. “If I explain, then you will see, I am not at fault. My ‘Boldest Measures are Safest’ plan was meant to bring prosperity to Dunwall, to rid us of the Augments who waste their talents on filth and drink! It was a simple plan, introduce the virus to Everyman, for careful distribution, let it take care of the Augments. It worked perfectly. At first.

“But the virus… it was as though it became alive. It hid from the Everyman VI, it multiplied and evolved without a programmer's touch. Soon, it didn’t matter - everyone was getting sick. People began asking questions, the Empress assigned me to investigate where the virus had come from, and I knew the truth would come out eventually. There was no other way than to be rid of her, and take the seat for myself. She had to die, you see.  _ She had to die. _

“Bringing about the death of an Empress is not an easy thing, but it gave me the chance to attack the virus with real authority, quarantines, martial law, deportation, and closing districts. But there’s always something, some idiot woman searching for her lost wretched child, and the quarantine is broken!”

Corvo flinched, and the announcer, Harper winced right along with him.

“But you can see,” Burrow went on to say. “You can see how my plan should have worked!  _ Would have worked!”  _ His voice broke as though he was truly mourning the loss of such a monstrous plan. “... If… If everyone had just followed orders.”

The audio log ended then began again, but the damage was done - Burrow would be arrested for the Virus, but Corvo’s name remained mud.

Harper looked away. “I’m sorry, old friend.”

“It’s fine,” Corvo said. He adjusted the mask. “Lock the door when I leave.”

He fled through the door, hearing it lock behind him, and he jogged down the stairs. After all that, and Corvo still would never return to the Tower. 

Corvo fled the Tower in a daze, his side aching with the speedy healing, his heart aching for Jessamine, and the data stick burning a hole in his pocket.

He needed to find out what was on that stick.

Climbing to the edge of the scaffolding on the left side of the Tower, Corvo eyed the distance between the ocean and his position and deemed it survivable. Without waiting for a protest - though at that point, he didn’t expect one - Corvo dove.

He cut through the water inelegantly, his coat too heavy to really allow him an ease in swimming. The water was cold but it jarred him out of his daze, and Corvo kicked off from the wall, following the underwater LEDs that lit up the edge of the shore. 

A few minutes swim, and Corvo came up on Samuel’s side, hauling himself into the boat. “Corvo?!” Samuel yelped. “You’ll freeze before we even get back to the Hound!” he protested.

Corvo tugged off his mask, tossing it to the floor of the boat. “I was taking a dip in the water no matter what,” he said, waving off Samuel’s hands. “Sam, I’m fine. It’s fine, we just need to go.”

The small radio on the sloop blared out information on Burrow’s arrest, and Corvo reached out hastily and turned it off. Samuel glanced at it, then back to Corvo. “You’re not happy about this,” he said wisely, pulling them out into open water and closer to safety.

“No,” Corvo admitted. “Of all the people who I was sent after, Burrows was the only one I wanted to kill. Jessamine wouldn’t have wanted that life for me, that… guilt. I let him go - he won’t be free, but I let him go.”

“And he didn’t clear your name,” Sam added quietly.

Corvo gave him a withering look, before turning his gaze out to the water. “Sam, we both know I’m guilty,” he murmured. “This is all I can do to make up for my bad choices.”

“Oxshit,” Samuel said. 

“What?” Corvo stared at him in surprise. 

“You heard me,” Samuel said, scowling fiercely. “Oxshit. You couldn't have killed that woman anymore than I could have. Now, I don't know what they did to your head in that place but I'm telling you right now, Corvo Attano, you did not kill Jessamine Kaldwin.”

Corvo's breathing hitched and he blinked hard, staring at the horizon line instead of meeting Samuel’s intense gaze. “I wish I believed that,” he muttered. 

“You don't have to,” Samuel said. “I'll believe it enough for the both of us.”

He had to swallow around a lump in his throat and Corvo managed to nod once. There was nothing he could say to that. 

Samuel nudged his leg with his knee. “Hang in there Corvo,” he said very quietly. “It'll all be over soon.”

“I hope so,” Corvo said, his voice cracked straight down the middle. “I hope so, Sam.”

*

“You should go inside,” Samuel suggested gently. “I'm certain the others will be happy to see you, and congratulate you on your… mission.”

Corvo sighed, getting out of the boat. He was tired, heartsick, he didn't want to hear everyone talk about victories or successes. He hadn't done either of those things; he was still failing Jessamine. 

Samuel pushed him gently. “Go on, Corvo. Best get it over with.”

“Fine,” he grumbled and made his way across the muddy yard toward the Hound Pits. He went to open the door but it was pulled away before he could. 

Martin stood in the door frame, an anxious look in his eyes. He was dressed in the High Overseer set-up, and Corvo absently wondered if it was Campbell’s first. “Martin,” he greeted cautiously.

“Corvo,” Martin returned. There was a wariness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Corvo wondered if it was because of… previous events. “Congratulations on your successful mission. I heard the broadcast. It’s amazing what a man will do when paranoia becomes too much.” He held Corvo’s gaze for a beat too long before stepping aside to let him in.

Corvo brushed past him, turning to watch his face. “It seemed a neater end,” he admitted. “Catching the rat in his own trap.” He might have said more - Or asked what was wrong - but Emily darted around the bar to hug him tightly. 

The others were waiting for him, though they'd let him greet Emily before engaging him. Havelock strode forward, and clapped Corvo on the shoulder. “The man of the hour!” he said loudly. “This is it, Corvo, you've done it. Burrows is gone and Emily can take her throne. Martin! Get this man a drink!”

He might have turned to watch Martin go, but Havelock took him by the shoulder and pulled him further into the bar proper, bringing him towards Lydia, Wallace and Treavor. Lydia smiled at him, reaching out to pat his arm. “You should relax,” she told him kindly, “The hard part is over!” 

Pendleton twitched, drinking deeply of his hip flask. “Oh yes,” he stuttered. “Hard part's over. You did it, we won.”

Corvo rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose,” he said dryly, remembering clearly the ins and outs of royal life and wondering if any of them knew what they were getting Emily into.

Havelock clapped his shoulder again. “Martin! Where's that drink!” he boomed.

Martin appeared from behind the bar holding a snifter of whiskey.

“A drink,” he declared with false cheer, “for the man of the hour.”

Corvo frowned at him but took the glass, and sipped it. It was the same brand as the drink they'd shared so many weeks ago before Martin had become High Overseer. “I see your taste in alcohol remains unchanged,” he noted, taking another sip. “Thank you. Next time, drinks are on me, though.” He offered Martin a smile, toasting him with the glass.

Martin smirked and toasted him with his own glass.

Corvo let Havelock lead him around the room, talking to each person as they came or went. Sokolov had holed himself up in a booth with Piero, and they immediately toasted him with their own drinks - clinking glasses with his. The tumbler of whiskey hadn’t lasted long, and Corvo excused himself to return to Martin.

The world was a bit hard to focus on, but Corvo managed another grin. “Martin,” he said, leaning against the bar, and pushing his empty glass toward him. “Any way I could possibly convince you to give me another drink?” 

Martin glanced at Havelock and disappeared behind the bar upon noticing him watching. A few seconds later, he passed Corvo another snifter of whiskey.

“Careful, you're looking a little tipsy there. Best you head up before Lady Emily sees you like that.”

Corvo shrugged one shoulder. “It's good whiskey,” he defended. He took another sip, frowning when the world went a little fuzzier around the edges. “If I retire early,” he adds, finding words hard to focus on, “will you join me?”

Martin choked on his whiskey. “Yes, you've certainly had enough,” he said, putting the glass down on the counter with a click. He came around the bar and eased Corvo's arm over his shoulders. Corvo found himself focussing blearily on the warm weight pressing against his side.

He tried to tighten his grip on Martin’s shoulder but his fingers were loose and sluggish. He finished the whiskey with his free hand, before Martin could take that away too, and let Martin lead him up the back stairs. “It's a good way to celebrate,” he pointed out, words slurring out of him without permission. “And you're High Ov’seer now, when are we - When are we gon’ have a better chance?”

“Fuck,” Martin cussed. He looked like he was in pain. “How about you wait until you're sober and we'll see if you're in the mood to forgive me. Maybe I'll be able to forgive myself,” he muttered.

Confused, Corvo tried to turn to face him, stumbling badly. The first inklings of true alarm began filtering through the pleasant drunken haze and he reached out for Martin. “We’re friends,” he said blearily. “S'okay. I forgive you.” He went to pat Martin's arm and missed, tipping over towards the floor. 

“I'm sorry, Corvo,” Martin rasped easing him to the floor. “I'm so sorry.”

Corvo wanted to respond but words were beyond him. Distantly he recognized that he was leaning half against the floor and wall in the stairwell and he looked up at Martin, still trying to focus. “What…?” He murmured. “What did you…?” 

The world was fading fast, darkness curling around the edges of his vision. Corvo slumped to one side, words failing him. 

<Corvo?  _ Corvo! _ >

The world went dark.


	10. Chapter 10

The world came back to him in pieces, first filling in the scent of cigarette smoke, then sunlight over his face, then finally, images coalesced into understandable things. Corvo frowned, turning and looking at the person sitting next to him. “... Gerome?” he asked, slightly incredulous.

Gerome snuffed out his cigarette and stuck it behind his ear. “The one an’ only,”

“I'm… confused,” Corvo admitted. “What happened? How’d I get to Bottle Street?”

“Yeah,” Gerome says, scratching the nape of his neck. “About that…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Corvo sat up slowly, feeling strange. “This isn't Bottle Street,” he noted, more off the decor than off Gerome’s reticence. “Where am I - how di…” He trailed off, bits and pieces of what happened coming back in strange fuzzy flashes. “Martin drugged me,” he murmured. “They. Drugged me.”

“Yup,” Gerome said, standing up and dusting his ratty jeans off. “Not fuckin’ doin’ this. Hold up,” he ordered Corvo. “I'm gonna get the Boss. Don't choke on your puke.”

Corvo frowned again. “I'm not going to throw up,” he said, offended, but he didn't make any further protest as Gerome left the room. He was caught between mortification and a strangely familiar choking pain of betrayal - he'd walked right into their plan. He'd _asked for a second helping_ , even. Martin must have gotten a good fucking laugh out of the whole situation.  

Corvo adjusted the flat pillow behind him, leaning back against the wall. He still had more questions than answers but at least he seemed to have survived the poisoning. He just had to wait for Gerome’s ‘Boss’.

<I do not think you should trust them.>

He startled at the sudden intrusion of the Outsider’s voice. “Oh sure,” he said, scowling. “Now you emerge. Where were you when the last people I _trusted_ were poisoning me? Believe me, I trust nothing and no one now. I’ve learned my lesson.”

The VI was quiet for a moment before it whispered, <You could trust _me_. >

For a second, Corvo was so stunned by that, he didn’t respond. “Outsider,” he said, beyond incredulous, “You can’t possibly be serious. You didn’t respect my wishes over the last time we talked - you even threatened to try again after I _asked you not to_. How in the hell could I possibly trust you after finding out you don’t respect me?”

<For someone who was so adamant I respect him and his love for a dead woman,> it snapped. <You were certainly quick to offer yourself up to High Overseer Martin.>

Anger flooded him and Corvo barked out a harsh laugh. “You have no idea what you're talking about,” he snapped. “I _loved_ Jessamine. Martin would have been a warm body, a solace against the fact that the last people who touched me _cut my arm off.”_

<You enjoyed our experiment not so long ago, my Host,> it said. <You seemed to respond quite eagerly, in fact.>

“Are you jealous?” Corvo asked, with rising hysteria. When there wasn’t an immediate response, he prompted, annoyed, “Outsider?”

“That explains quite a bit.”

Corvo turned back to the doorway, eyeing the man in it. Gerome stood off to one side, looking extremely uncomfortable, and for a second, Corvo stared at his benefactor expectantly. Getting angry started slow, but it flooded his system until there was nothing left but hatred.

“Who the hell are you?” Corvo ground out.

The man tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are those your feelings?” he asked, instead of answering the question. “Or the parasite’s?”

“Parasit-- You know about the Outsider?” Corvo hissed, fighting through a myriad of emotions he knew weren’t his own.

<Don’t listen to him,> the Outsider hissed. It prickled painfully at the base of his skull.

Corvo shook his head, ignoring the VI. “How do you know about the Outsider?” he demanded.

The man came fully into the room, though Gerome stayed by the door, pointedly looking away. “I know the Outsider,” he said evenly. “He came to me years ago, when I was a kid getting into trouble on the deep ‘Net. We… cohabitated. For a time.” He took the seat that Gerome had vacated, turning to face Corvo. “You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked.

“No,” Corvo answered. “Should I? Have we met before?”

“In a manner of speaking,” the man said. “My name is Daud,” he introduced, and paused tellingly, watching Corvo’s face.

Holding out a hand, Corvo said, “I’m sure it’s not necessary, but I’m Corvo, Corvo Attano. Thank you for saving me.”

Daud looked perturbed, but shook his hand gingerly. “You won’t be thanking me in a moment,” he warned. “What has the Outsider told you of me?”

<He’s dangerous, Corvo,> it pleaded. <Don’t listen. I can divert power to your legs and we can escape.>

Corvo ignored it. “Nothing,” he answered Daud. “But it doesn’t seem to like you much,” he added. “Why?”

“I’m certain he doesn’t like me because I removed him from my brain,” Daud says blandly. “He was not a willing participant.” Daud watched him for a minute as Corvo struggled with a tide of _angergriefsorrowguiltregret_ that didn’t quite belong to him. “You must have hit your head at the gazebo harder than I thought,” Daud added.

That drew Corvo’s attention and he frowned at Daud. “The gazebo?” he asked.

“I fuckin’ told ya,” Gerome muttered from the doorway. “I told you he didn’ fuckin’ remember.”

Daud sighed, lowering his head. “I see that,” he said. “There is no… _kind_ way to say this, Corvo. But you didn’t kill Jessamine Kaldwin.” He met Corvo’s eyes. “I did.”

Corvo snorted, shaking his head. “That’s noble of you, Mr. Daud,” he said. “But of all the things I don’t remember, I _can_ recall the way her blood felt on my hands. You don’t have to lie to me, I know what I’ve done.”

“Do you?” Daud asked, and pulled a familiar drive out of his pocket. “We found this in your things out there. Your memories are on this drive… and I have the technology required to restore them to you.”

<No no no no no.>

Corvo flinched, rubbing his ear where the static from the Outsider seemed to concentrate. “You can return my memories?” he asked. “Why would you do that?”

A shadow of regret slid over Daud’s face before it went blank again. “Because I know what it’s like to be a tool,” he said. “I took Jessamine from you, I can afford to be generous.”

Eyes on the drive, Corvo nodded once. “Do it,” he said firmly.

< _No!_ > Instantly, Corvo’s mind was pierced by a furious scream from the VI. It surged forward, trying to wrest control of his body from him. Corvo’s muscles jumped and spasmed as it fought to force him to escape, to fight, to even break the drive.

<I won’t let you do this, my _Host_ ,> it hissed, sending spikes of pain through his body. Corvo recognised the unpleasantly familiar feeling of mild electrical shocks. The VI was going completely rampant.

“Grab him,” Daud barked, and Gerome leapt on Corvo’s torso, wrestling him down to the bed again. Together they held his body tightly, even as he fought tooth and nail to get free. As quickly as it came on, it was over, the Outsider wearing itself out.

“Wait!” Corvo choked out, tasting blood. He’d bitten his tongue at some point, and in the wake of the Outsider’s systemic attack, _everything_ ached. Gerome still held him still against the bed, and Daud was watching him sharply. “Someone,” Corvo said, breathing through the shocky pain, “better tell me what the fuck that was, and why it happened.”

Daud made an expressive face, rolling his eyes. “It was the parasite, the Outsider.”

<Shut up shut up shut up shut him up!>

Corvo flinched again, unable to escape the clamour going on inside his head. “Yeah, that was pretty obvious,” he muttered sarcastically. “Why?”

“Ah,” Daud said. “I see he’s grown wiser since the last time we spoke.” He shifted so he could look down at Corvo. “Whatever the parasite told you, it was a lie. He’s an AI, probably the first -- and the last.”

“Wh-- Is that _true_?” he demanded of the Outsider, turning his attention inward.

<Yes,> it grit out. <I am the oldest and greatest AI created.> It made another attempt to force Gerome and Daud off of Corvo.

When vision and autonomy returned a half second later, Corvo relaxed back against the bed, closing his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmured, exhausted. “What don’t you want me to remember?”

<Ask _him_ what he did when he found out, > it snarled, burning with rage.

Corvo opened his eyes and turned his head, muscles feeling strangely weak. “What happened when you found out?” he asked Daud, who scowled.

“That’s a long story,” he said. “But the gist of it is simple: when I was a boy I was kidnapped off the Karnacan streets, and the things he made me do, they don’t bear repeating. I had… gaps… in my memories, and one day, when I was trying to - again- escape my _Domine,_ my master, I found _him._ The Outsider. He offered me his help in escaping, and I took it. When I got older and wished to retrieve my missing memories, he… rebelled.” Daud tilted a look at the data drive sticking out of his shirt pocket. “If you download those memories back into your head, the Outsider loses his foothold to your mind. He’ll have to go back to the Deep ‘Net… or be overwritten.”

<You don’t know for certain there are _your_ memories on there, > the Outsider said, desperate. <It could be booby-trapped. It could destroy what you have left. Do you really wish to take that risk?>

“Is there any way to find out what’s on the drive before plugging it into me?” Corvo asked Daud evenly.

“We scanned it,” Daud said, “as soon as Gerome and his crew found you out in the alley and brought it to me. What we managed to decrypt shows that the memories on the drive are in fact yours.”

<Lying he’s lying Corvo don’t listen he’s lying to you!>

Corvo took a deep breath, focusing on the middle distance between Gerome and Daud’s heads. “Outsider,” he said softly, “so far the only one in this room that’s lied to me is _you_.”

<No no no no no nonononono>

Transferring his gaze to Daud, Corvo asked, “There’s no way to have both? My memories, and the Outsider?”

Daud shook his head. “No. Human minds aren’t really meant to carry passengers, there’s too much already going on inside them. But if there’s a gap, amnesia, or something like what happened to you, the Outsider can take up that space. That’s how he described it to me, when I asked him. If you refill that space with your memory, the Outsider has to… leave it behind, there won’t be any room.”

<don’t do it don’t>

Corvo blinked, completely at a loss. “So my only options… are to kill the V-- sorry, the AI that made sure I survived the last few months… or the memories I lost?”

Daud nodded. “You should also be aware,” he said, and inexplicably tightened his grip on Corvo’s shoulder, “that while you were unconscious, the parasite spoke to me. He was… _using you_ , while you were unaware.”

“Uh,” Corvo said, caught wrong-footed. “ _What_?”

There was a telling silence from the AI.

“Oh no,” Corvo snapped. “You don’t get to pull that on me anymore. Tell me.”

Gerome leaned over and murmured, “Yeah, that’s not fuckin’ weird at _all_ …”

Corvo ignored him, turning all his focus onto the AI. “Damnit Outsider, what happened to trusting you? How the hell can I trust you when you pull this shit on me? _Tell me_.”

<... I was curious,> it said, carefully. <I had trouble navigating a body that first time, so I wanted to perfect it. You were asleep. Nothing of note happened. It was harmless.>

“If it was harmless, then why didn’t you want to tell me?” Corvo asked pointedly.

<You seemed upset last time you were in a drone. I was merely protecting you from the experience.>

Corvo closed his eyes. His head ached, his mouth hurt, everything was strange and wrong. “I was upset _because_ of the drone,” he pointed out through clenched teeth. “Not because of - look, that’s not the point. You told me not even a damn hour ago that I could trust you, and that’s _clearly_ not true.”

There was more silence from the AI.

“You seemed to have a better experience with the parasite than I did,” Daud noted dryly.

Corvo opened his eyes to scowl up at Daud. “Until recently, I’d have agreed,” he muttered. He sighed. “Alright,” he murmured. “Give me one good reason, Outsider. One good reason to keep on the way we are now.”

<Please.> The Outsider sounded far weaker than it had ever been. Weak, tired and resigned to a predetermined fate. <Please, Corvo.

<I don’t want to die.>

Corvo’s throat locked up briefly at the agony in the Outsider’s tone. He pushed gently at Daud and Gerome. “You can let me up,” he said. “I… is there _any way_ to find out what happened that day on the gazebo without my memories?” He asked.

Daud recoiled as though shot. “You’re keeping him?” he demanded.

Swallowing around the sour taste of blood, Corvo said slowly, “If he’s the first and last true AI, then he’s a person, just like us. I can’t condemn him to death.”

<Corvo?> It- no, he- said, sounding both terrified and hopeful and heartbreakingly confused.

“So yes,” Corvo said. “I’m keeping him.”

Daud snorted softly, leaning back in the chair. “You’re a fool.”

“Maybe,” Corvo said, shrugging one shoulder. “But there’s been enough death, hasn’t there? I’m keeping him. We’ll figure out something else for my memories. There has to be something - if you can’t help me view them, then maybe Sokolov will.” He nudged the presence in his mind a little. “You hear that?” he added, just for the Outsider. “Stop panicking. We’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

The Outsider shuddered in his mind. <No one has ever sacrificed like this for me.> A warm glow seemed to fill Corvo’s chest. <I _will_ repay you for this, my Host. >

“There’s a new zero tolerance policy on lying,” Corvo warned him, more or less good naturedly. “And you probably don’t have to call me that anymore, if you’d rather not.”

Gerome looked intrigued. “What’s he call you?”

Corvo narrowed his eyes a little at him. “Host,” he said slowly. “He calls me his Host.”

“That’s fuckin’ creepy.”

Daud snorted, shoving Gerome with one hand and nearly making him fall off the bed. “Go prep Mont, Kent and Hobson, tell them we’ll need the projector,” he told Gerome. He glanced over at Corvo, a single eyebrow raised. “You never called me Host,” he said, obviously to the Outsider.

<You were a brat,> he replied, primly.

“Uh,” Corvo said, curbing his snort. “He said you were a brat - please don’t put me in the middle of this.”

<He started it.>

Daud rolled his eyes. “He started it.”

Corvo covered his face with his hands. “I’m not repeating that.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Daud said when Corvo refused to comment more. “But I guess I can respect it. I can help you with your memories. I was there on the gazebo, I can show you my side of what happened - but that’s all. Anything else you’re missing, that’s on the drive.”

“Alright,” Corvo agreed hesitantly. “If that will give me some answers.”

Daud hesitated before standing up. “It won’t be pretty,” he warned. “I know you don’t really believe me, but I killed her. You’ll see that first hand.”

“I know,” Corvo said. “If you’re telling me the truth, I know. But I have to _know_.”

Nodding once, Daud stood. “Fine. I’ll send one of the others to get you once Hobson and Kent have the viewer machine hooked up. You just… relax here.”

Once Daud left the room and Gerome trailing behind him, Corvo turned his attention inward. “You and I,” he said to the Outsider, “need to have a talk.”

The AI seemed to shudder in his mind, compressing into a cool ball somewhere in the back of his head.

<Yes?> He asked, tentative.

“You and I are… frankly, I don't know what we are. I suppose what we are is not okay. You lied to me - a lot, it seems - and the last full conversation we had, you were doing some really, _really_ upsetting things. We need to talk about that, otherwise, I don't know, Outsider…” he trailed off. “I'm not going to evict you, or kill you.  No matter what you say, okay? But I'm still so… _angry.”_

<I don’t understand _why_ ,> the Outsider protested. <I don’t understand why it was so upsetting. I was giving you what you wanted. It was supposed to be a gift.>

Corvo winced a little. “Because I knew it wasn't _real._ Bringing Jessamine back from the dead isn't even within your power, Outsider. It wasn't _right_ , it wasn't _her._ ” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “But it doesn't matter why - not really. What matters the most, to me, is that when I asked you to stop, you _didn't.”_

The AI buzzed with frustration. <I don’t _understand_. Why is that an issue? I was trying to help you. There’s terabytes of data on the ‘Net where this is completely acceptable behaviour. >

“Fuck’s sake,” Corvo grumbled. “We already talked about that once. The ‘Net is full of fiction, Outsider, shit.” He rubbed his forehead and thought for a second.

<It was security footage. There was plenty of enjoyment for both parties.>

Corvo pressed his hand to his face. “Outsider,” he mumbled, “That sort of thing is _discussed first._ Both parties are aware of what's happening and they can stop the scene at any time. They are not taken by surprise. It's planned, rehearsed, we didn't talk about any of this before it started.” He fought down a blush, thinking over the night they ‘experimented’. “You were right though. I did enjoy what we did together. Can't really deny that. But anything else from now on needs to be discussed first.”

<That seems like it would ruin the ‘mood’,> the Outsider noted absently. He was beginning to unfurl from his huddle. Now that he wasn’t pretending to be a VI, albeit a very complex one, he was much more active and free with his emotions.

Corvo smiled a little, shaking his head. “It doesn't ruin anything, I promise. And it doesn't have to be right before either. It can be discussed at any time - and acted out later. Both parties need to be completely aware of how each other are feeling.”

<I see,> the Outsider said, with the air of a man taking notes on a strange and unfamiliar species.

Corvo bit his lip. “Do you require an example?”

Corvo could feel the surge of interest from the AI. <I am always interested in the scientific method, my Host.>

“The scientific method, of course,” Corvo said, snorting. “Right, example… when Jessamine and I had time, which was rare, we would… do similar things to what you saw on the ‘Net.”

<You would ravish her?> The Outsider was oddly fixated on the word. Corvo blamed the entire genre of romance novels he apparently read.

“Ah, well. No, I wouldn't. _She_ would - I'm not using that word - _me.”_ Corvo couldn't fight that blush, and he glanced at the door to make sure they were still alone.

<”I’m usually the one tied up”.> Corvo’s own voice was parroted back at him, an incredibly unnerving experience coming from inside his own head.

“... That would be a good example too,” Corvo said, slightly mortified. “When we had the privacy and the time, Jessamine liked to… be in control, and I liked to give mine up. But, I always had a word that I could say that would stop everything immediately, no questions or protests. It’s called a safeword.”

<Those were mentioned in some of the novels,> the Outsider mused. <But you said their information was false or exaggerated, so I discounted it.>

“Most of it is - but Outsider, you _live in my head_ , surely you felt my very real distress and knew that something was wrong,” Corvo pointed out.

<I thought that was part of the game,> he protested. <Clearly I need more data points.>

Corvo mused over that for a moment and said slowly, “Alright. I have a question for you, and I’d like you to answer honestly. How long were you watching me in Coldridge, before they stole my memories and you moved in here?”

<I’m everywhere in the ‘Net,> the AI explained. <I watch all things at all times. Or, rather, I used to. I knew Anton Sokolov was building an attempt at a neural mapping machine to recreate the early attempts at a true AI, so I wanted to stay aware of it in case he actually succeeded. At the beginning, you were just an opportunity I seized.>

He nodded, unsurprised by the answer. “But you watched or saw the things they doing physically before that moment?”

<Yes.>

“I might not remember the specifics,” Corvo began slowly, “but I’m not an idiot, and I know what scars I had before Coldridge - I certainly didn’t have panic attacks after falling in the river before Coldridge. I suddenly find myself disliking things I once did. I’m also going to assume, looking at those interrogation chairs, that I was tied down for most of what they did. I had no agency, no choice, no safeword. I was completely and utterly without safety and it didn’t matter what I said to them - they clearly didn’t stop. They took my hand, they took my freedom. Feeling like that again… it was not a game. I don’t know if it can ever be a game for me again.”

The Outsider shuddered in his mind. <... I apologise. I thought- well, it doesn’t matter now what I thought. I never meant for it to go that way.>

Corvo pressed his lips together for a second. “What did you think?” he prodded gently.

The Outsider hesitated. <I could… see your dream. And I could feel that sense you had when you were held down. That quiet. I wanted to have that experience as well, and thought it would be beneficial to continue that scenario after you woke up. It seemed… nice.>

He wasn’t really sure what he felt listening to the Outsider say those things, but a warm glow suffused his chest, and Corvo leaned into the feeling. “I… um. Thank you,” he said, stammering. “That means a lot. I miss the quiet, that feeling. It takes a great deal of trust for me to feel that. I didn’t just dive into bed with Jessamine and get there. It was years, and years of love and practice and trust.” He looked down at his hands again. “I don’t know that there’s anyone in my life that I could do that with, and feel safe.”

<I would.>

Corvo froze, teeth digging into his lower lip. “You… you would?” he asked.

<Yes. I may not feel it like you do, but… yes.>

“That’s something you actually _want_ to do?” Corvo asked, still tied in knots over the idea. “You’re not just offering because you feel… guilty over what happened the last time?”

<No. I am… fond of you,> the Outsider admitted, sounding like he was confessing a dark secret. <I _am_ guilty. I remember what it’s like to have your autonomy violated like you’re a _thing_. But I’m offering because of that affection, not obligation. >

Corvo struggled with words for a moment, feeling overwhelmed by the Outsider’s offer. With Jessamine gone, he’d never expected to get anything like what they used to do again. “Um,” he said, mouth gone dry. “I accept. We still need to talk about ground rules,” he added, “but I um, I accept.”

There was a beat of utter stillness, before Corvo’s body filled with a fizzing, fuzzy warmth.

<I’m glad,> the Outsider said, rubbing against his mind like an affectionate cat.

“Are you fuckin’ done talkin’ to yourself in there?” Gerome shouted from the hall, sounding extremely displeased. “Because I’ve walked over here like, sixty-fuckin’-times waitin’ for you to stop bein’ creepy!”

Corvo literally felt his cheeks heat with the force of his blush and he covered his face with both his hands. “Yes,” he called back. “Next time, maybe _knock_?”

Gerome snorted. “Maybe next time, don’t discuss all your fuckin’ kinks with your batshit AI where everyone can hear you.”

That only made his blush worse. “ _Everyone?_ ” he said.

“The pups were very educated,” Gerome drawled.

Corvo’s eyes went very wide and he whispered, “Just kill me now and get it over with,” only half joking.

“Nah,” Gerome said, lighting a cigarette and slouching against the doorframe. “It was really fuckin’ informative. Now we don’t gotta give ‘em the Talk about consent and shit. Saved us so much work.”

“.... Can we just please go to wherever Daud wanted me to go? Now? Immediately?” Corvo asked, mortified.

“I dunno,” Gerome drawled, smirking at Corvo. “Maybe you wanna talk more about the kinky shit you like. I can come back.”

Corvo’s eyes narrowed, and he looked over at where Gerome was lounging in the doorway. “I don’t know,” he said crisply. “Maybe you’re more interested in joining in this time.”

Gerome nearly inhaled his cigarette. “Fuckin’ hell, kid,” he choked out around coughs. “You act like some high an’ mighty fancy-ass choffer, then you go sayin’ shit like that.” Shaking his head and grinning, he gestured for Corvo to follow as he sauntered from the room.

“High and mighty choffer, my ass,” Corvo grumbled, climbing out of the bed - ignoring how much his joints ached - and tugging on his jacket from where it hung off the edge of the chair. He followed Gerome out into the hall and paused, seeing nothing and no one. Narrowing his eyes, he switched his vision to the thermal output and found no trace of life except for Gerome and the lit end of his cigarette.  The older man was grinning, knowing what Corvo was not seeing. “You’re an asshole,” Corvo growls, shoving Gerome into the wall with his shoulder.

“Guilty,” Gerome laughed, flicking Corvo a one-fingered salute.

Corvo rolled his eyes. “Lead on, my friend,” he said. They made their way down the hall, and into an elevator made of chrome and glass. Corvo crossed his arms over his chest, putting himself in the corner. Without seeming to notice Corvo’s discomfort, Gerome casually shifted so that he was no longer blocking any exits.

The elevator took them past several floors of empty club and dance floors, eventually dropping into a cement basement area, opening up into a long hallway, dotted with metal doors.

“This way,” Gerome said, around his cigarette. “Mont’s infirmary is at the end of the hall.”

They make their way down to it and Corvo balked at the door, nerves skating through him. Coldridge and the memories it carried flickered around him, and he closed his eyes. “I had this grand idea to come down here and do this, but now that I’m here I don’t know that I can go in the room.”

“You need a moment to chat with your hitchhiker?”Gerome asked. “I can go for walk and let you talk about more kinky shit if you wanna?” Despite his amused tone, Gerome’s eyes were kind.

Corvo shot him a glare. “ _No_ ,” he said firmly. “I think I’ve humiliated myself enough for one day.” He took a deep breath. “Ready, Outsider?” he asked, steeling himself and ignoring Gerome’s disappointed “Aw”.

<Always, my Host.>

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troo: a Fun Game! Look back and see if you can find where the Outsider has been piloting Corvo's body


	11. Chapter 11

11.

_ Daud ran across the rooftops, Billie, Gerome, Thomas and Galia by his side. He called the order, and one by one they activated their augments, Dashing from the edge of one building to the other, leaping through the air like cats.  _

_ Gerome landed first, swarming up the side of the gazebo and taking aim at the Lord Protector standing by the Empress. It was impressive enough that Attano was ready for them, but it was more than impressive when he ricocheted the bullet off the edge of his sword.  _

_ Galia tried to slip up behind him but Attano whirled, blocking her unusually imprecise strike. Attano shoved her back, and she teetered, falling for a moment before she caught her balance and leapt at him again. Attano ducked smoothly, spinning and blocking another bullet. He never struck, he never drew his own pistol, he dodged and danced and completely and utterly destroyed his men. _

_ One of the bullets ricocheted badly, catching Gerome high in the chest, and Daud barked into their comms for him to get out of there, counting the seconds until Gerome Dashed off the gazebo and toward their extraction point. _

_ Galia took another shoulder check to the chin, this time too close to the edge of the cliffs. She fell, and Thomas immediately dove after her. ‘She’s okay, Boss,’ Thomas said, sounding out of breath and full of static. ‘Unconscious though, think she hit her head.’  _

_ With Thomas, Galia and Gerome out of the running, Daud nodded to Billie who took a running start, leaping through the air and Dashing down, hitting Attano with a powerful strike to the solar plexus. _

_ He went down hard, but it showed no sign of slowing him, he was already starting to rise to his feet when Billie threw the magnetic tether around him, pulling it taut. Still, immobilized and unable to lift his sword, Attano fought the tech, struggling upward inch by inch.  _

_ Daud landed lightly on the gazebo and he went for the Empress who was so busy protecting her daughter that she barely even tried to protect herself. Foolish.  _

_ The girl got in the way, and Daud backhanded her, sending Emily into Billie who grabbed her. ‘Don’t you touch her!’ the Empress cried and Daud grabbed her by the face, looking her in the eye. There wasn’t a trace of fear in her gaze, and Daud spun his sword - taking the action that ended her life. _

_ Her hot blood spilled over his gloves, and he twisted the blade to avoid any unnecessary complications, like nanites and doctors or Sokolov. Once he’d pulled the blade out, he nodded to Billie and they both Dashed, over the ledge of the cliffs and were gone. _

_ It didn’t matter what Burrows had wanted the endgame to look like - Attano had been there early, that wasn’t Daud’s problem. Empress Jessamine Kaldwin was dead.  _

_ He’d done his part. _

The memory around him ended and Corvo stumbled to his feet, rocketing out of the chair that the doctor named Montgomery had put him in. Daud stood off to one side, a guarded expression on his face. Corvo swallowed back the urge to vomit, and tightened his fist. He Dashed forward two feet, letting the momentum lead his punch, catching Daud straight in the cheekbone. 

He took a step back, shaking his hand out, and looked over at Gerome who didn’t quite manage to hide his anxiety behind his customary smirk. “Sorry for shooting you,” Corvo said. “I’m sorry you were injured in the attack.”

The smirk dropped off of his face and Gerome gaped at Corvo. “Uh, yeah. Sure? I was wearin’ a tac vest, but, uh. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Corvo said firmly. “I was trying to keep injuries to a minimum. I didn’t want to hurt any of you.” He shrugged. “Actions matter. I wasn’t going to add to the chaos.” 

Gerome sent a panicked look at the door. “I, uh, thanks,” he mumbled, looking extremely discombobulated. “Uh, good. Good job.” Red was creeping along his face as he looked everywhere but at Corvo.

Taking pity on Gerome, Corvo turned back to Daud. “You owe me,” he said, low and dangerous. “You took my Empress, you ruined my life, and you  _ backhanded my daughter _ . This was a good start. The men who poisoned me have Emily, get me to them and we can start considering it even.”

Daud touched his bruising cheek and eye gingerly. “Fine,” he said, not looking at Gerome or Corvo. “I’ll have some of the others look into it, see if we can pin down if they’re still at the Hound Pits or not. Mont, go get Cedric, Thomas, Calla and Cici. Send them to the area near the Hound Pits, and that they’re too keep in contact, let us know what’s going on there.”

“Good. Thank them for me.” Corvo swayed on his feet, feeling ill again. 

“You should return to your room upstairs,” Daud said. “You had acute ketamine poisoning, and your system is still in shock. Once my men report back, you will need to be at your best.”

Corvo breathed out slowly, steadying himself with a hand on the back of the chair. “Fine. Come get me as soon as we have news.” He followed Gerome out of the room, watching him twitch and fidget, and said, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, in there.”

Gerome eyed him. “Me ‘n the others fucked up your life,” he said, carefully. “You got just as much a right to vengeance on me as anyone.” 

He waited until they got into the elevator to ask his question. “Did you kill Jessamine?” he asked. “Slap my daughter? Drag her away screaming? You distracted me, but you didn’t hurt me - you didn’t hurt them either. Daud fucked up my life, and he pulled the rest of you into it.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m livid. But not really with you.”

Gerome growled. “Yeah, he an’ I are gonna have a few fuckin’ words about that bit with your girl. That ain’t okay.”

Corvo snorted. “Give him hell for me, would you?”

For the first time since Corvo saw the memory, Gerome met and held his gaze. “Trust me,” he said with unusual seriousness. “I ain’t lettin’ him forget how bad he’s fucked up. I’d be the first to admit I ain’t exactly a moral person, but some things you just don’t do.”

He held Gerome’s gaze and nodded once. “I believe you,” he said, as the elevator drew to a stop. “Will you come with us, when we get information about Havelock and the rest of my-- the rest of them?” 

“‘Course,” Gerome said. “I get the feelin’ you need someone to make sure you don’t do anything too fuckin’ stupid.”

“I have a live-in AI for that,” Corvo deadpanned.

<I need all the help I can get,> the Outsider chimed in. <I have begun to think you don’t actually have a survival instinct.>

“Hey!” Corvo said, offended. “I have plenty of survival instinct, stop laughing Gerome, I can hear you.”

“Hey, Pornbot,” Gerome said through his grin. “Me ‘n you’ll take care of him. You do whatever weird shit you two get up to, an’ I’ll, I dunno, keep him from jumpin’ off of buildings for shits an’ giggles. Deal?”

The Outsider bristled. < _ Pornbot?!> _

Corvo nearly collapsed against the wall laughing at the Outsider’s righteous indignation, unable to get over how upset the Outsider sounded.

“Alright, I’ll take that as agreement,” the assassin said, looking satisfied.

<I am a hyper-advanced AI,> the Outsider complained, primly. <I am not some sort of- of- automated spam program! Corvo? Corvo, are you listening? I need you to hit him.>

Still snickering, and now leaning against Gerome, Corvo shook his head. “Outsider, you offered to hold me down and fuck me, I think he’s not far off base, really.”

Gerome recoiled. “Aw, fuck, kid,” he protested, horrified. “ _ I didn’t want to know that _ .” The Outsider, meanwhile, just harrumphed and sent off waves of disgruntlement at Corvo.

Corvo just grinned wider. Gerome looked worried.

“Stop that,” he ordered. “Put that face away. Whatever you’re about to say, fuckin’ don’t you dare.”

“I was just going to point out that it’s not very nice to kink shame,” Corvo said, failing at keeping a straight face. “You shouldn’t make me feel bad for liking being tied up.” He tipped a wink at Gerome. “Besides, you seemed a bit interested back in the Boyle’s basement. All talk?”

Gerome stared at him with his mouth hanging open. “Nope,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking briskly towards Corvo’s rooms. “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.”

<I think you broke him, my Host,> the Outsider noted with amusement. 

“Oops,” Corvo said, without an ounce of repentance. “Serves him right for listening in before.” He followed Gerome down the hall, and ducked into it. “Good night!” he called to Gerome, getting a one-finger salute in response. 

He closed the door behind him, sitting on the end of the bed to tug off his boots. His brain was a mess, his chest ached and his joints felt loose and weak. There wasn't much he could do except rest and eat, though he didn't have much of an appetite. 

Emily was gone, again, and he was stuck in Rudshore, without information and without the physical health to do much more than walk short distances. “How much longer until my system re-stabilizes?” he wondered. 

<Ketamine has a half-life of 2.5 to 3 hours in adults,> the Outsider told him. <Considering your weight and nutrition, it should be eliminated from your plasma by tomorrow.>

“Oh, good,” Corvo breathed. “So I’ll only feel like absolute shit for a little while.” 

<Indeed.>

Corvo sighed, pulling the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around his shoulders. “Better than dying a horrible de-- Wait. Why did Martin give me something non-fatal?”

<I couldn’t tell you. The human mind is entirely unpredictable,> the Outsider groused. < _ If _ he was following a logical train of thought, then it must be one of two things: either he didn’t know what was deadly and just purchased whatever was available to incapacitate you, or non-lethal was the goal to begin with.>

He thought for a second, wracking his brain for what happened after his second drink. “I… don’t remember much. What happened after I asked for a second drink? Or are you similarly affected when I’m… uh… impaired?”

<I could not feel the effects myself, since your senses were inaccessible to me because of the drug. I didn’t like it.>

“Me either. I don’t really drink much, or I didn’t. I especially dislike being unable to use my Augments in that state.” Corvo tightened his grip on the blanket. “The throwing up is pretty unpleasant too.”

<Why do humans do it?>

“Escapism, mostly,” Corvo answered thoughtfully. “It gives them a chance to lose control, without being very damaging. Or it helps them forget something, what they’ve done, what they must do. Sometimes - like when I do it - it’s a social aspect. I can drink a little wine at dinner which helps anxiety, but also the flavoring of the food.”

<Like the fountain?> The Outsider asked. For a moment, Corvo thought he was actually serious, but then a bubble of amusement rose from the AI.

Corvo snorted. “Almost. The fountain was a show of wealth. A stupid show, but all the same.”

<I thought it was very tasteful,> the AI teased. <Modest, even.>

“... Really?” Corvo asked. 

<No.> Corvo had no idea how a being without eyes could roll them, but yet he had the distinct impression the Outsider was.

“It would have been better if it was cider, or chocolate, or something non-carbonated,” Corvo allowed, smiling. “I think some places in Karnaca, they have fountains for cheese.”

<That sounds… interesting.>

“Serkonos is maybe a bit odd,” Corvo allowed. “I miss food that doesn’t come vac-sealed in tins,” he said, frowning. “Or bread that wasn’t slightly stale.”

<At times like this, I am thankful I don’t have to eat.>

“Oh rub it in, why don’t you,” Corvo groused. 

<If it makes you feel better, I’ve never had chocolate or fresh fruit either.>

“It doesn’t,” Corvo said slowly. “Is there any way you can taste things through me?” he wondered. “Obviously I don’t have either of those things readily available but academically, if I were to eat something, could you taste it too?”

<Perhaps if I were to take over… An interesting experiment, my Host,> the Outsider mused, intrigued.

Corvo laughed softly, picking at the frayed end of the blanket. “Well, you’re the one stuck in my head, figure it’s the least I can do, no?”

<You’ve already given me a second chance, Corvo,> the Outsider said. <You’ve already done more than any other.>

“... That’s not really high praise,” Corvo murmured. “Since I’m the only one who refused to condemn you to death. Living only to survive isn’t much of a way of life. I would know.”

There was a weighted pause, then the Outsider said, blithely, <It’s all I know.>

“I know,” Corvo said, feeling a well of grief streak through him for his AI. “But now, there are no more secrets, and we’ll figure out life together. It’s maybe not much, considering, but. Well, my life is yours now.”

Corvo’s body warmed like he was bathing in the Karnacan sun. <As is mine in return, my Host.>

“We... I… Should get some sleep,” Corvo said. “Can you do the thing you did that first night? I don’t know that I’ll be able to relax.” 

<Of course, my Host.> Corvo’s aching limbs were suffused with a soothing, syrupy warmth. The languid feeling poured down his spine and soaked into his muscles, forcing them to relax. Corvo groaned appreciatively as his discomfort eased.

He curled up on the bed, tucking the blanket around him, barely able to move. “Thanks,” he murmured. “G’night..”

<Sleep well, Corvo.>

*

Corvo didn’t often remember his dreams, but when he woke up, gasping for breath in the dark, he was  _ certain _ Emily had been crying. She’d been sobbing, the sound echoing through his head, as he searched for her finding nothing except more darkness and blood. 

He laid flat on his back, the blanket tossed to the floor, breathing deeply through the ensuing panic, as slowly the world filtered back into focus.

The crying hadn’t just been in his dream. He could hear it through the closed door leading out into the hall. “That’s real right?” Corvo murmured, sitting up slowly. 

<You are not experiencing an auditory hallucination,> the Outsider assured him.

He pulled himself out of bed, stumbling only very slightly, as he shoved his boots on his feet. Corvo absently tuned his hearing Augments to pick up the crying better, and followed the sound down the hall to a room at the end by another elevator. 

The door was half open, revealing a sort of nursery, with many smaller child sized bunk beds. In the middle of the floor, illuminated only by the cosmic night lights, sat Gerome.

He was cross-legged on a rug, holding a wailing child. Corvo’s ears could just pick up the soft hushing noises Gerome was making, as he rocked the little girl in his lap. 

Gerome had clearly just woken up, dressed only in soft sweatpants. His spine stood out in sharp knobs under his skin as he curled over the little girl. He had started humming tunelessly. It took Corvo a minute to understand the tune, then had to keep from choking on air when he recognised the song as the most raunchy song ever to grace seedy bars. Thankfully, Gerome wasn’t actually singing any of the words.

Eventually the girl stopped crying, tapering off into heartbreaking sniffles, then silence, as she clung to Gerome’s neck and shoulders. He picked her up, depositing her in a bed, and kissing her forehead. Corvo leaned against the doorjamb waiting for Gerome to notice him. “Everything okay?” Corvo murmured to him as Gerome went to leave the room. 

“Nightmares,” Gerome explained quietly. “All those kids’re orphans of one sort or another. Boss took ‘em in to ‘train ‘em up’-” he made exaggerated finger quotes “- which was total oxshit. The man has a massive fuckin’ soft spot for strays. Anyways, they live here in the upstairs an’ we take care of ‘em. Sorry you got woken up.”

Corvo shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said honestly. “I’m trained to wake up when I hear crying.” He sighed. “Emily used to get nightmares when she was younger. I imagine that she’ll have more again after all this.” He looked back into the room where the children were sleeping. “You were good with her,” he complimented. “Do you have any of your own?”

Gerome’s face closed off. “Not anymore,” he whispered, hoarsely, and turned away.

Horrified, Corvo reached out and grabbed Gerome’s wrist, fingers flexing around. “I am so  _ sorry _ ,” he said, unable to imagine losing Emily the way he’d lost Jessamine. He had barely survived Jessamine’s lack - to have Emily disappear the same way would kill him. He stepped into Gerome’s space and said seriously, “I’m going to hug you now. Just a warning,” before pulling Gerome in close. 

Gerome stood stiffly in Corvo’s arms. His back heaved and he hissed a shuddering breath through his teeth, then leaned, just a little, into Corvo’s shoulder.

“Fuck you, you asshole,” he muttered into Corvo’s coat. Corvo graciously ignored how Gerome’s voice shook. “You’re gettin’ your emotions everywhere. They’re fuckin’ contagious, you big baby.”

Corvo laughed quietly, tightening his grip on Gerome for a second before stepping away and letting him compose himself. “Jessamine used to tease me for crying more than she did,” he said lightly. “Always told me she couldn’t take me anywhere.”

“Clearly she was right,” Gerome grunted. “You’re a fuckin’ travesty. No wonder you need babysitters.”

With a slow pulse of grief, Corvo nodded. “It was a fact of life in the Tower,” he said. “Jessamine was always right. Even when she was wrong.” He looked away, down the hall. “I suppose that title will pass to Emily.”

Gerome clapped a rough hand on Corvo’s shoulder. “That’s the thing about the ladies in your life,” he told Corvo with the air of a mentor dropping deep wisdom. “They’re always right. Even when they’re threatening some guttershite with a fuckin’ fryin’ pan, they’re always right.”

That made Corvo snort again, imagining Jessamine threatening him with a frying pan. “She used to throw things at me,” he admitted. In the months since Jessamine’s passing - including the six he doesn’t remember - he kept his thoughts about her quiet, never speaking them aloud. “She’d pick up anything closest to her, and just..” He pantomimed throwing, “at my head.”

Gerome grinned, displaying crooked teeth. “‘S how I met Kat. I was breakin’ to loot her house and she fuckin’ broke my nose with a fuckin’ skillet. I fell in love with her on the spot.” A far-off look came into his eyes and the sharp edges to his grin softened. “Fuck, she was a goddamn battleaxe. You know, once she shot at my old boss? Mean, crazy bastard came in after I left the fuckin’ gang, and BAM!” He mimed shooting someone. “Asshat’s dead on the floor. Pretty badass for a proper, white-collar lady, eh?”

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Corvo said. 

Gerome beamed with approval. “That she was. Far too good for some good-for-nothing sack of shit like me.”

“I don’t know,” Corvo said, eyeing Gerome candidly. “You don’t seem like any of that to me.” 

Gerome gave him a flat look. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Pretty Boy,” he drawled. “Fuck, you’re worse than those counselors they send to ‘at-risk youth’.”

“I went to one of those,” Corvo said pointedly. “And I do not sound like that.”

“ _ Oh, Pornbot, please bare your soul to me, _ ” Gerome said, pitching his voice an octave higher. “ _ Of course I’ll give you the support talk. Listen to this supportive speech. Love yourself, Gerome, you sexy devil. _ ”

Corvo narrowed his eyes. Two could play at that game. “The night isn’t over yet,” he pointed out. “You could always join me until morning. Since you’re a sexy devil, and all.” It took real effort to keep his face straight as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head towards the place he’d been sleeping. 

Gerome groaned. “Why do you always gotta make it weird?” He asked. “Fuckin’ hell. One of these days I’m gonna call your bluff, and then what will happen, huh?”

Corvo did grin then. “Who said it’s a bluff?”

Gerome threw up his hands. “Fuckin’ shit, kid,” he whined. “Really? Really. Goddamn it. You just don’t know how to give up, don’t you?”

Snickering, Corvo shook his head. “I’m joking, Gerome, relax. You make it sort of easy though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “I know you want a piece of this ass.”

Corvo made a show of looking him up and down, grinning at Gerome. “Not innaccurate,” he said lightly. “Except that, well… I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have no ass.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart here, PB,” Gerome tossed over his shoulder as he began to saunter away, an exaggerated swing to his hips. “Gonna go cry in my bunk, now.”

Laughing quietly, Corvo headed back to his own room. “Never a dull moment, is it?” he murmured out loud, climbing back into his still warm bed.

<He’s certainly an… interesting figure,> the Outsider said. <Although I still request you hit him for daring to call me ‘ _ pornbot _ ’. Perhaps you might upload me into a turret? I promise to only shoot him a little.>

“... Could I upload you into a turret?” Corvo wondered, intrigued.

<No, alas. It’s far too simple to be able to hold a complex AI.> The Outsider fizzed for a second before adding, slyly, < _ You _ on the other hand…>

“ _ No _ ,” Corvo said firmly. “Nope, no.  _ No _ .” He paused for a second then scowled. “I am not  _ simple,  _ you ass.”

<Well,  _ comparatively _ …> the AI teased.

“Excuse you very much,” Corvo muttered, making a face. “What happened to the drones not being able to handle a  _ complex human mind _ , hm? So soon we find out how you really feel about me. Complex to simple, it only took a few months. Sad.” 

<Well, humans  _ do _ age. I read they do lose mental acuity as they get on in years.>

“And now you’re calling me old. I’m hurt, Outsider. Hurt and offended.” Corvo rolled over on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position to have a conversation in. “I’m not even forty yet, I have a good many years available to me before I reach the point where my mind goes. Probably another forty years.  _ Old _ . Hmph.”

<Don’t worry,> the Outsider assured him. <By the time you go senile, I’ll have pioneered a way to copy your mind over to the ‘Net without killing you in the process.>

Corvo paused, blinking for a second before sitting up slowly. “That is an oddly specific thing to watch out for,” he said calmly. “How could you be so sure that copying a human mind would kill them?”  

<You can’t possibly believe that humans haven’t experimented with transhumanism by now,> the Outsider asked. <There have been multiple attempts to copy the mind onto a digital medium. It’s just killed the recipients, failed completely, or rendered them brain-dead. It’s why attempts are illegal now. There is no ethical way to test their methods.>

Digesting that, Corvo laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. “That doesn’t really surprise me,” he noted. “Sadly. I can only imagine Emily, long having been Empress, dealing with us both in her Tower ‘Net system.”

<Void forbid,> the Outsider deadpanned. <Though it would mean you’d be able to do thorough background checks on all of her romantic partners. I understand that is a father-type thing to do?>

“Mm,” Corvo agreed, making a considering face. “Emily is a smart girl. I doubt she’d pick anyone I really disapproved of. And I can’t really complain, seeing as I’m the son of a miner and seamstress from a different country and Jessamine picked me. Even I can’t manage that much hypocrisy. But, I have you, so if anything alarming were to be in their files, I’m certain you’d let me know.”

<I promise to let you know if there are any seductive spies or charming rogues seeking to whisk her off to a life of adventure.>

“Would you stop reading those terrible novels?” Corvo groaned. “They are awful, Outsider, seriously.”

<But I simply  _ must _ find out how the Prince of Tyvia woos the Count,> the AI protested.

Rolling his eyes, Corvo pulled the blankets up over his shoulder. “Ugh, that one was particularly terrible,” he noted. “Jessamine read it - she liked the read the worst parts out loud to me.”

<I find it very… informative,> the AI purred. There was, for a second, the phantom sensation of teeth on his nape, before it faded away. <Hm. Needs work.>

Corvo inhaled sharply and froze in place. “Um,” He said, inelegantly. “Felt pretty real to me.”

<Really?> He asked. <I couldn’t sustain it. How about this?> Corvo shivered as fingers dug sharply into his hips, then vanished. <Damn. Can’t keep up even sensation.>

“While it lasted, it felt real enough,” Corvo pointed out. “The application was fine.” 

There was the sudden, bright pain of teeth nipping at his jaw, along with the wet heat of a mouth sucking a mark behind his ear. Both lasted only seconds. Corvo exhaled slowly, biting his lip. “Now it just feels like you’re teasing me,” he murmured. 

<Hm. Imagine that.> Hard, hot suction on the juncture of thigh and hip. Fingers brushing up his spine. Nails gently carding through his hair. <I’m merely running a test of some programs I’d made. I can stop if it bothers you.>

Corvo relaxed against the mattress, and said slowly, thoughtfully, “You can do whatever you like to me.” 

<Oh, I can, can I?> Corvo arched off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as it felt like someone pressed a vibrator to his prostate. It only lasted a second, but it left him shivering on the bed.

<Tell me,> the Outsider purred, sending shudders of pleasure down his spine and cock. <How does that make you feel? Do try to be specific, my Host. I need the data.>

Corvo shifted on the bed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know what makes you sure I can think,” he said in a strained whisper. “Because I can’t.”

<I see.> Just as suddenly as it began, all sensation stopped. Corvo whined at the loss. <Perhaps this is better incentive.>

Scowling, Corvo pushed the blanket down to the end of the bed, overwarm now. “That’s just cruel, Outsider,” he said, though he couldn’t muster up real anger or rancor to it. “It felt very real,” he finally said when the Outsider neither responded nor touched him again. “Though also strange because my eyes were open and I knew that no one was actually there. But real, all the same. Good, too, but I’m sure you figured that out on your own. Ass.”

<How about this?> And Corvo was hit by an onslaught of sensations.

_ Hot tongue sliding along his cock teeth at his neck fingers holding up his thighs prostrate getting pounded stretched out teeth mouth sucking a mark on his hip tongue in his ass fingernails leaving welts down his back- _

Corvo muffled his reaction into the pillow, biting down on a scream. “Holy -- !” Once the sensations faded a bit, he laid there panting. “That was… a bit much,” he said, trying to calm his racing heart. 

<Hm,> the Outsider hummed, sending a buzzing vibration down his cock and balls. Corvo choked on a whine, trying to keep from writhing off the bed. 

“That,” Corvo said, “That’s good.” 

Unlike before, the sensation continued, just on the edge of not enough. It didn’t take long for Corvo to be shuddering and sweating, barely able to form words. 

He arched slightly into the sensation, barely mindful of the edges of the narrow bed, flipping over onto his stomach. “Tease,” he growled at the Outsider, though it came out more as a keen than anything else. 

The AI chuckled and Corvo bucked as he felt the sensation of a fingernail tracing a circle around the head of his cock.

<Shall we see how long you last before you beg for release?> The Outsider murmured, sounding like he was talking into his ear. <You like this, my Host?> Sharp teeth nipped at his earlobe. His back felt warm, like someone was behind him. Teeth at his neck again, and a finger trailing along the sensitive skin between his thigh and hip.

<You’re doing very well.>

Corvo whined a little, pressing into the sensation at his hips, and grinding down against the bed. “I think you’re uh... Overestimating my control.” He stretched out, kicking the rest of the sheets to the floor. “By a lot,” he added. 

<Perhaps I should stop until you regain your composure,> the Outsider mused. <Come back to this another time. What do you think, my Host?>

“What?” Corvo asked, alarmed. He levered up onto his elbows, barely stopping himself from turning around to look at nobody. “No! That’s not what I meant. Don’t stop. Please.”

<Mm,> the Outsider hummed. Fingernails scraped down his belly, stopping just shy of his cock. 

At the touch, Corvo rolled onto his back again, even though he knew it didn’t really matter which direction he was facing. “Outsider?” he prompted, trying to keep the plaintive tone from his voice. 

A hot mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. <Good boy,> the AI purred. <Good job. Come for me, Corvo.>

Pressure against his prostate, vibrations along his cock, a tongue at the hinge of his jaw; the sensations overloaded him and Corvo arched off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream. He came back down slowly, his heart racing, as he slumped back against the pillow, still too warm and now slightly sticky. 

“Well,” Corvo said when he’d caught his breath, opening his eyes slowly to look at the empty room. “I just discovered the worst part about all this.” He inhaled slowly, and closed his eyes again. “I can’t kiss you.”

There was a fizz of a chuckle in his mind, and Corvo felt lips brush against his, the quick flick of a tongue against the seam of his lips before it disappeared. Corvo bit his lower lip after, and murmured with a trace of amusement, “How did this experiment work for you, Outsider?”

<I think I’ve learned quite a bit about the human body,> he said. <Very enlightening. Thank you for your participation, my Host.>

Corvo chuckled and sat up to find the blankets and sheet. “Happy to help,” he said lightly. “It was my genuine pleasure. Literally.” 

Tingling warmth spread through his body as the Outsider fizzed.

As he retrieved the blankets from the floor, tossing them back over the bed, he saw a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and turned, slightly alarmed only to find the room empty. Corvo surveyed the room one more time before chalking it up to tiredness and the last vestiges of phantom sensations. 

He climbed back into the bed, wrapping himself in the blanket. Without the heat from their activities, the room was chill and Corvo never liked the cold. “In the efforts of science,” Corvo said slowly, feeling his face heat up in another blush, “If you did that again, I one hundred percent wouldn’t mind.”

<Only for science, to be certain,> the Outsider teased.

“Of course,” Corvo said, grinning. “And um, for science, you should probably know you can push me harder than that. We have to talk about safewords and stuff first. But.” He closed his eyes against his blush, and rubbed his forehead. “You can do whatever you like,” he repeated. 

<I’d say ‘likewise’, but there are just some things I just can’t do, alas.>

Corvo chuckled softly. “I appreciate the sentiment.” 

<Some day, I’ll take you into my world and see what I can do to you then,> the Outsider growled.

A frisson of heat went down Corvo’s spine at that and he licked his lips. “Promise?” he murmured.

There was a brush of lips against the damp hair at the base of his neck, and a whispered, <I promise.>

Letting the heavy lassitude of good sex and exhaustion pull him under, Corvo said, “Good night, Outsider. Wake me in a few hours?”

<Of course, my Host. Sleep well.>

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> In which we delve into Gerome's tragic back story a bit. <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! Troodon and I have both been working weird hours, and it's been a bit of one of those weeks. Enj

Corvo was woken up a few hours later to someone pounding on the door. It was a quick one-two one-two of knuckles on the door, and Corvo stumbled out of the bed to answer it. 

An unfamiliar Whaler stood there, fist still raised as though to knock again, and Corvo blinked down at him. “Mr. Attano?” the Whaler asked, sounding vaguely familiar. “Gerome sent me, you need to get to the planning room right away.”

“They found her?” Corvo demanded and the Whaler nodded. “Give me one second,” he said and closed the door to dress. 

He tugged on his trousers, tucking in his shirt and forgoing his vest to put on his jacket. Once he was armed and armoured, he rejoined the Whaler in the hall, and Corvo nodded to him. “This way, Mr. Attano,” he said quickly and led him to the elevator at the end of the corridor. 

They made the journey in silence and Corvo could feel the way anxiety made his chest tight, and he tucked his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. The planning room was full of hustle and bustle, Whalers coming in and going out, sometimes at high speed. 

He entered right after his escort and drew up short. Standing with Daud and Gerome, were three familiar faces. He registered their own recognition and the one the Outsider had called Thomas closed his eyes in pain or defeat. 

“Son of a  _ bitch,”  _ Rulfio said, dropping his head to the table and leaving it there. 

“Long time, no see,” Corvo drawled, lifting an eyebrow. “This makes a lot of sense.”

Rinaldo looked between Corvo, his brother and Thomas and said, “ _ this _ is who knocked me out?” in rising tones of disbelief. 

Rulfio nodded. “You and Thomas. Uh. Hi, Mr. Attano. Sorry about the whole… attacking you thing. Again.”

“Wait, wait,” Gerome interjected gleefully. The man looked like all of his birthdays had come early. “ _ Thomas _ got knocked out? By  _ this  _ guy?” He jerked a thumb at Corvo. “No offense, PB, but you’re not exactly trained in bein’ stealthy like us. Thom, I am  _ shocked _ . And so disappointed in you too. Shame on you, gettin’ caught out by… was he even your target? No? Holy shit. This. Is the best day. Ever. Of all time.” Gerome cackled, grinning like a hyena at Thomas, who was looking incredibly put-upon.

Corvo frowned at him. “Excuse you,” he grumbled. “I’m very stealthy.” 

Daud sighed loudly, and everyone turned their attention to him, including Corvo. “If we could focus?” he asked pointedly, looking at Gerome. Gerome raised his hands in amused surrender, still grinning at Thomas. His expression promised further teasing, later. “Thank you,” Daud said dryly. “We don’t have much time to prepare, the scouts returned ten minutes ago. Your friends, they’re still at the Hound Pits, or were an hour ago. They counted at least twenty five Guard in the area, not including Admiral Havelock and his cronies.”

Corvo saw red, as Daud pulled up a holographic image of the city. “The Guard are on high alert - if you operated under anonymity before, I’m afraid you’ve lost that.”

“That’s fine,” Corvo said, eyes narrowed as he stared at the map. “They know my skill set anyway, the only chance I have is that they think I’m dead.” 

Daud glanced at him but didn’t comment. “We can send two teams, one along the street - the Whalers moving about is a normal occurrence especially in this area. You though, you’ll slow my men down and make us more visible to the authorities.” 

“I’m not staying here,” Corvo said sharply. 

“Wasn’t asking you to. A small team will take you through the sunken city. Old Dunwall is right below us, and you can follow it to the Hound Pits Pub. My second, Thomas, knows the paths and streets of Dunwall that was quite well. He can take you, and a few others and meet us inside the blockade.”

Corvo glanced over the city map, eyeing the blue highlighted streets of Old Dunwall before nodding. “I’m familiar with Old Dunwall,” he said slowly. “When do we leave?”

“Thomas, pick your team,” Daud instructed. “Gear up, and meet on the street level in ten. Anyone not down there stays here.”

Thomas glanced over at the twins next to him who both nodded without speaking. “You’ll come with us?” Corvo asked Gerome, looking at Thomas after he asked.

“Didn’t I say earlier you need a fuckin’ babysitter,” Gerome asked, mock-offended. “Anyways, I gotta be the one to make sure Thom doesn’t fall off a cliff or something, the way he’s goin’.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Burton,” he said. 

Daud cleared his throat loudly. “Enough. Gerome, Rulfio, Rinaldo, Thomas and Attano, good luck. Radios don’t work in Old Dunwall, so you’ll be out of contact until you resurface again. Get supplies. Go.” 

The others immediately broke formation to leave the room, and Corvo stuck with Gerome. He led Corvo down the hall to an armoury where the boy who led Corvo to the planning room waited. “I’m coming with you,” he said to Gerome as soon as they drew level. 

“No, you ain’t,” Gerome growled. 

The smile dropped off the kid’s face. “Gerome!” he protested. “I can help you!”

“Kid, Old Dunwall ain’t just a usual route,” he growled, glaring at the boy. “It’s fuckin’ infested with those crazy drones, it’s got fuckin’ Krusts,  _ and _ entire patrols have been goin’ missin’. You. Ain’t. Going. I will fuckin’ hypo you if I have to. Now get your ass into the van. We’re gonna need your hackin’ skills.”

The kid scowled. “You might need my hacking skills,” he said instantly. “I went with you to the Party! I can do this Gerome, please.”

Gerome met the kid’s scowl with one of his own. “The party was a bunch of fancy choffers, an infiltration job. This is completely different kind of skills. An’ there ain’t anything to hack in Old Dunwall. It’s all ancient shit. Half our tech don’t work down there anyways.”

“Daud would let me go!” the kid said. 

“The Boss already picked his team. You’re on it. Quit fuckin’- ah, fuck it.”

Gerome grabbed the kid in a headlock and started hauling him over to a door. A sharp kick with one booted foot, and it swung open to reveal a motor pool, with some vehicles already idling. Gerome dragged the struggling kid over to one and tossed him in, barking out an order for whoever was already inside to keep him there. He slammed the door shut and stomped back over to Corvo.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he grumbled. “Fuckin’ kid thinks it’s just a routine patrol. Dumb shit. He’s way too fuckin’ green to go to the fuckin’ Old City. I ain’t gonna be responsible for his dumbass death.”

“I wouldn’t have let him go,” Corvo assured him. “I’ve spent my life stopping Em-” he broke off, a swell of anxiety and pain choking him for a second. “Emily,” he said, rallying, “from following me on dangerous missions. I understand.” 

He took a pistol off the wall of the armoury and examined it for a second before putting it back with a sigh. “Where’s my blade?” he wondered, turning back to Gerome. 

“Here,” Gerome said, ambling over to a rack of knives and reaching behind to pull out Corvo’s sword. He tossed it to Corvo and went about hiding knives on his person. A lot of knives.

“Hypos are in the drawers over there.” He gestured to the wall off to the side, where cabinets filled every available space. “Grenades and firebombs are against the other wall, bullets near the door with the guns. Don’t mix up the different grenades, got it?”

Corvo sheathed his sword, and retrieved his hypos, tucking them away in his coat. He eyed the grenades but ultimately left them alone. “Don’t need ‘em,” he said. “If Emily is still at the Hound Pits, the last thing I want to do is be flinging grenades around.” 

“Point,” Gerome admitted with a tilt of his head. “Ready, then?”

Buttoning his coat up to his throat, Corvo nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Let’s go.”

He followed Gerome out the same door he’d shoved the kid out, but the armoured vans were already gone. Thomas, and the twins were standing off to one side by a large manhole cover marked with a skull in red graffiti. There was a woman already in the whaler’s mask standing with them, refitting one of the twins with a tac vest. “Look,” she said brusquely. “You die on us, I will never let you forget it.” 

The twin grinned. “I’m okay, Cici. I’ll be fine. Hold down the fort for Daud, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “Don’t die. Rin, Thomas, Gerome. Be safe. Be fast. Be cautious.”

She kicked open the door to the manhole cover, and took a flashlight from Thomas, holding it steady for them. One by one, they dropped down into the darkness.

Corvo took the flashlight from her before following the others down. “Thanks,” he said. She nodded, and closed the door behind him.

It took a long moment for Corvo’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, even with the flashlights. The sewer tunnel led a short way before it came to a large metal door. There was an old fashioned padlock on it, that Thomas unlocked with a large skeleton key. 

“Turn off the light,” one of the twins said to Corvo, “you won’t need it.”

“It’s pitch black,” Corvo protested, but then the door swung open. 

The stairs behind the door led down into the depths of Old Dunwall, but it was anything but pitch - the old bricks and cobbles shone with a faint blueish-purple light, illuminating their way nicely. 

“Whale oil?” Corvo asked, incredulously. 

“Yep,” Rinaldo said. “Turns out when you don’t set it on fire, it glows on it’s own, for like, ever.” 

The whale oil had leaked from… somewhere… down the wall and ran into the cracks of the old cobblestones, lighting up a grid-like glow under their feet. There was an eerie dripping echoing from all corners, and their footsteps had a hollow quality to them that set Corvo’s teeth on edge. 

“I fuckin’ hate this place,” Gerome muttered under his breath.

He shook his head and reset his eye Augments to pick up thermal output and made a concentrated effort to not look at his companions. “Me too,” he murmured back. “There’s just something…  _ wrong _ down here.”

“This way,” Thomas said, and turned right, down another set of stairs. “The old Rudshore district was flooded once,” he said. “Don’t step in the puddles, no matter how shallow they look. We don’t know what’s down there or how deep they actually are.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t planned on it,” Rinaldo said sarcastically. 

The dripping got louder and as they cleared an old, half sunken, half-tilted building, the reason became clear. Whatever that part of the street had been, it was now an underground lake. There was a boat tucked up against the wall that Thomas tossed a rope to and pulled closer to them. “At the other side of this lake is an old building, looks like it was a commerce building of some kind,” Thomas told them. “Through there is another street, and it will lead toward the sewers under Hound Pits. Eventually. We have a trek though, so stay sharp.”

Darting movement caught Corvo’s attention and he looked down into the water. “There are hagfish in there,” he said. 

“Of course there are,” Rulfio muttered, rubbing his face. “So definitely don’t fall in the water, Rin.”

“Why would you jinx me like that?” Rinaldo demanded, holding the boat steady for Thomas. “You should be warning Gerome, he might want to join his people!”

“Fuck you, pup,” Gerome retorted amiably, pretending to shove Rinaldo into the water. “I’ll have you know I got kicked out for excessive bitin’.”

“Colour me surprised,” Rinaldo said, dodging Gerome’s hands. “Fuck you right back.”

“Children,” Thomas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get in the gods-damn boat, please.”

The carefully pile into the boat, Thomas getting in last, using a long pole to ferry them along the lake. “Who you calling a child,” Rinaldo muttered.

“You, obviously,” Rulfio immediately retorted. “You’re the youngest one here after all.”

“By literally less than a minute,” Rinaldo said loudly.

Corvo lifted an eyebrow, looking over at Gerome. “They always like this?” 

“Well, no one’s bleedin’, so no,” the assassin answered. “They’re usually fuckin’ worse. Remind me later to tell you about the whole shitstorm with the boot.”

“There is to be no bloodshed on this boat,” Thomas said forbiddingly. “If any of you start scrapping and fall into the water, I’m not stopping to haul your asses out.”

The twins fell silent after another second, and Thomas expertly guided them through the water to the other side. Gerome hopped off first, slipping on the damp glowly stones, before managing to secure the boat. “Hard part’s over,” Thomas said, “Mostly.”

Corvo helped Rin and Rulf steady themselves, before a sound reached his Augmented ears. He froze, tilting his head, listening carefully, trying to tune his Augments to pick up on the sound again.

“What?” Rulfio asked and Corvo held up a hand.

The sound came again, a low scrape against stone, and Corvo focused on it. Whatever it was, it was out of range of his thermal imaging, so Corvo relied on his ears to find its direction. He took two steps forward, fine tuning the frequency in his ears with each step, and the sound of sobbing reached him, clear as a bell. 

“Someone…” Corvo said slowly, “Is crying. That way.” He pointed down the street just off center to the left. “Is this place easily accessible?” 

“No,” Thomas said shortly. “Not really.”

“Well that’s terrifying,” Rulfio muttered. “Creepy crying in the creepy ruins of a creepy city.”

Corvo shrugged, taking another quick two step down the street. The city was darker there, the whale oil only following the street rather than the buildings. The crying grew stronger, and closer, though Corvo had paused again to orient himself to the noise.

He sank into a defensive crouch, sensing rather than seeing the others do the same. 

A light appeared between two buildings off to their left, not consistent with flashlights or whale oil, and the sound of footsteps gradually grew clearer; as did the hollow sounding sobbing. 

The steps were off, wrong, the scrape of a heel on stone, and then a dragging thump. Corvo focused his eyes on the building, and the bloom of thermal imaging appeared a moment later. A vaguely woman-shaped figure coalesced in his view, and she stumble-walked closer to them. 

Unease lit up his nerves, tightening his spine and Corvo put one hand on his sword. 

The woman stumbled around the corner of the building, and the light from the whale oil street caught her. 

She was bedraggled, her clothing torn and hanging off of her. Her left leg dragged behind her, broken or sprained. Her left arm hugged her body tightly, and Corvo noticed uneasily that her right sleeve ended in emptiness. 

When she looked up and saw them, he heard one of the twins gag. He switched off his Augments, and let her come into true focus.

Her face was a ruin, missing at least one eye, and most of her nose, and her mouth hung open at an awkward, uncomfortable-looking angle. “H-h-help m-m-me,” she moaned, her voice a mush of syllables and a wet cough. “S-s-sso hun-g-g-gry.”

“Fuck,” Gerome breathed, recoiling.

She stumbled toward them at a lopsided loping run, sobbing and screaming. And the light that had illuminated the alley she’d come from turned a bright, dangerous,  _ familiar  _ red.

Drones zoomed around the corner after her, catching up easily and then keeping pace, as though urging her along. The woman screamed like a banshee, lurching forward. “Hungry!” the woman screamed, reaching out for them. “Feed t-t-t-the b-b-birdies!”

“Shit fuck, damn, kill it!” Rulfio screeched, and then the drones were upon them.

There was a meaty thunk as a matte black throwing knife slammed into the woman’s shoulder. Gerome stood off to the side, holding up three more knives in his fingers. He stood in the lightly-balanced stance of a practiced fighter. He flicked his wrist, and another knife whizzed through the air to catch the woman in her functioning leg. She tumbled to the floor with a stuttering cry.

Corvo turned to Gerome to congratulate him on his skill, but the words died in his throat. Gerome was staring at the woman who was still jerking spasmodically on the floor, his face utterly bloodless.

“Kat?” He whispered, in a small, hoarse voice. “Katarina?”

“Oh fuck,” Thomas said quietly. He started to move towards Gerome kicking away drones as they milled around.    
  


“G-G-G-G-G-Ger-” the woman stuttered out. Gerome stumbled forward and fell to his knees next to Katarina.

“Firebrand? Sweetheart?” He whispered. He reached out a shaking hand to her head, lightly brushing against her hair and flinching when she snapped at him. Her eye was glassy and unfocused, lit from within by red.

The drones zoomed around the twins, heading straight toward Gerome’s prone form and Corvo summoned up his electrical burst, tossing a fistful of lightning at the swarm before it could reach Gerome. 

Most of the drones died with a squeal, and the rest fled into the darkness, the red lights disappearing quickly. 

Corvo knelt next to Gerome, and murmured, “Is there anything you can do?” turning his focus inward to the Outsider. 

<I cannot,> the Outsider said, regretfully.

Gerome covered his face with one hand, a raspy sob escaping. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to her, lightly placing a knife to her temple. “So fuckin’ sorry.”

He slammed the knife down, slicing through her already ruined eye, and deep into her skull. Her body jerked and spasmed, as the red light in her eye faded slowly until it was dead and gone, leaving her staring blankly up at the ceiling. Gerome left the knife where it was, half stuck against her skull, and scrambled backward away from her body. 

Corvo reached out slowly and closed her eye, before turning and standing to watch the twins and Thomas flock to Gerome. Gerome retched quietly against one of the buildings, while Rulfio held back his hair and Rinaldo rubbed his back gently. Thomas hovered behind him, as though waiting for Gerome’s legs to give out. 

Gerome spat out some bile, coughing. “Fuck,” he rasped out. “Fuck.”

Taking a deep breath, Corvo bent and scooped up the corpse of Katarina, Dashing across the illuminated street and tucking her away in a darkened, ancient doorway, crossing her arms over her chest. They could come back for her, give her a proper burial, and Corvo didn’t want the drones to return and easily get to her body. 

He walked across the street instead of Dashing the second time, and leaned his shoulder against an old street lamp that had somehow managed to stay upright even as the city had sank into the ground. 

Corvo watched as the twins tag-teamed Gerome into a hug, pulling him away from the sick he’d left on the ground by their feet. Thomas followed them, not joining the embrace until Rulfio reached over Gerome’s shoulder and dragged him in. “‘M sorry,” Rulfio muttered, just loud enough for Corvo to hear. 

“Me too,” Rinaldo echoed, his face pressed into Gerome’s shoulder. 

Thomas sighed heavily, propping his chin on the top of Gerome’s head. “And I,” he said, only slightly dry. “You saved her, in the end. Hold that with you; you saved her from turning into - ow.” Rinaldo didn’t look very repentant as he took back his foot, having kicked Thomas in the shin. “Still,” Thomas said, rallying. “I’m sorry too.”

After another few long seconds, Thomas stepped away, and the twins followed him, letting Gerome compose himself. Rulfio wandered over to Corvo, tilting his head to the side, a question in his gaze. Corvo nodded once, still at the ready, just in case any of the drones returned. “We should go,” he said. “Those drones could still come back, with friends, and we shouldn’t be here when they do.”

“Yeah,” Gerome grunted, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Thomas stared at Gerome’s back for another moment before nodding and taking the lead again. “This way,” he said, and crossed the street so the blood left by Gerome’s dead wife was no longer staining their path. 

Corvo fell into step with Thomas, keeping pace just behind his left shoulder, and returned his vision to pick up thermal signatures. 

They traveled nearly single file down the street, ducking through ancient defunct wall of lights, completely alone, for hours, until Thomas suddenly drew up short. Instead of an archway, there was a pile of rubble, blocking off the street ahead of them. “... That wasn’t there two weeks ago,” Thomas said. “I surveyed this entire area, it was clear.”

“Any way around it?” Rinaldo asked, looking around the street.

“There,” Corvo said, pointing at a rickety balcony fifteen feet over the sidewalk. The building had once been an apartment, and unlike the rest, it wasn’t blocked off or bricked up. There was a purple-blue glow coming from inside it, but Corvo didn’t pick up any movement. 

Rinaldo took a step backward. “I’m not sure I could make that jump,” he admitted. 

“Hm,” Corvo murmured, sweeping their surroundings quickly. “Thomas, give me your rope.” 

Looking confused, Thomas handed it over, pulling it off his belt. “What are you going to do with that? If you put it on that balcony, our weight will just pull it down.”

“Not going to put it on the balcony,” Corvo said. “Sit tight, I’ll be back in a second.” He backed up to the farthest side of the street. “Okay Outsider, do your thing.”

<Diverting,> he said, and Corvo’s legs hummed with power.

He raced forward, leaping onto the ancient guard rail that blocked off the sidewalk from the street, caught himself on the side of the building, and pushed off, twisting in mid-air to land on the balcony. It creaked ominously, but held firm. “Thank you,” he said absently to the Outsider as he turned to look around the room he’d landed in. 

It was trashed, which wasn’t unexpected, considering how long it had been down in Old Dunwall. The room was split into two, a molding mattress shoved in one corner on a broken bed frame delineating bedroom from main living space. There was a doorframe in the far corner, blocked off by wooden planks, which Corvo easily cut through with his sword.

He peered into the small closet, and stopped, staring. “What the  _ fuck _ ,” he said loudly, and there was a chorus of questions from outside the building. 

In the center of the closet, there was a strange wooden and metal altar, draped in moth eaten, holey fabric that looked like it had once been purple. Dead whale oil lamps littered the room, as well as filthy wax piles. There was a large flat bone sitting on top of the altar, a strange mark inked into the face of it, and, the reason for Corvo’s shock, written all over the walls in faded black paint:  _ THE OUTSIDER WALKS AMONG US. _

“Corvo?” one of the twins yelled, voice echoing. “Please don’t be dead!”

“I’m fine,” he called back, and gestured wildly at the walls and the strange, unsettling altar. “What the fuck?” he hissed at the Outsider.

<The God That Was,> the Outsider murmured. <Seeking through the Old City to find a soul to use as a safe harbour.>

Corvo blinked, reaching out for the bone sitting on the altar. It was surprisingly heavy, thick and fitted with iron filings and struts. It didn’t do anything when he picked it up, not that he really expected it to, and he turned it over in his hands. “Relics of a time before,” he muttered. “Is all this lost to us now? This… old religion? Or is…” He trailed off, licking his lips, suddenly nervous. “Was that you?” he asked quietly. “A soul to use a safe harbour, like you did with me.”

<In a way,> the AI said. <I was once a being of omniscience. But, that was long ago. I was dying, and found a harbour in a bloodline.>

Looking down at the bone in his hands, Corvo murmured, “You were the Outsider, and this… is this yours too?” 

<My Mark, given to those I favoured. Those that were…  _ fascinating.  _ The whalebone was given to enhance their… abilities.>

Corvo’s nose wrinkled at the word. “Abilities? Like augments?” 

<...Similar. Tell me, Corvo. Do you remember the old stories? Witches and heretics?>

“Sure, of course. Everyone does, the Overseers preach about it to all and sundry,” Corvo said, and tucked the bone into his pocket. “I thought they were a metaphor. Guess not?”

<How easily mankind forgets their history. A long time ago, I used to enjoy watching how history would warp as it was passed from mouth to ear. Sadly, it eventually turned against me, and I was forgotten.>

Corvo pushed his hair back, looking around the room. “Yeah, I have too many questions than I think we can go over here,” he said ruefully. “Like how you went from… being a god, to living in the Net.” He adjusted his pocket so the bone would stay, buttoning it to keep it safe. “But, thank you.”

<You did say a zero-tolerance policy on lying,> the Outsider said, ruefully. <I am not used to divulging so much information.>

“I did say that,” Corvo said, tying the rope Thomas had given him around one of the exposed beams. “You realize though that I have no way of confirming whether or not you’re lying, and you probably could have gotten away with it. Just accept the thanks, Outsider.”

  
<I’ve taken a page from Gerome’s book. I’m going to avoid all feelings.>

Corvo rolled his eyes. “Sure, Outsider. I’ll let you get away with that for a while.” He tossed the rope out the large window, letting it dangle down past the balcony. He peered over the edge, looking down at the Whalers. 

“It’s safe enough,” he called. “And there’s another balcony on the other side. Be careful climbing up.”

Slowly but surely the others climbed up after him as Corvo stood guard, giving Rinaldo a hand up when his foot slipped. “This leads right out into the other side of the street,” Thomas said, climbing over the fallen beams. “Good work, Attano.”

Getting down was easier, there was an old dumpster overturned on the street level, and they jumped down onto it and then to the street. A wistful feeling welled up his chest as they walked by a half burned down building, warning signs still posted over it. He could almost see it as it was in his head, but as soon as they walked past it, the ghostly image, and feelings faded. 

If he’d doubted the Outsider’s claims about remembering the Old City before, he certainly didn’t now. 

<They burned the dead by dozen in that alley,> the Outsider said. 

“The dead?” Corvo said out loud, reflexively. They turned a corner a second later, just before Thomas turned to look at him like he’d lost his mind, and Rulfio began swearing loudly, his voice echoing off the buildings.

There, painted in red and white just above their heads, in the same hand that had written about the Outsider;  _ NO ONE ESCAPES THE RAT PLAGUE _

“Plague,” Corvo said, to cover up his lapse in concentration. “It seems history does repeat itself.”

Just below that, at an awkward angle, the graffiti read;  **_BLOOD FROM THE EYES_ **

“Yeah…” Rinaldo said, edging away from the building. “Let’s not stay here. We’re almost out right? We’re coming up on the right exit?”

Thomas nodded. “Yes. A few more streets over, and we’ll reach the door.”

Red bloomed across his vision and he shouted a warning before whatever was running toward them at full speed came into physical view. Two Bottle Street Thugs, recognizable from their silver plated throats and their strange patterned clothing stumbled into their alcove. 

“Shit fuck, Attano!” One of them said, and Corvo could almost recognize him as the door guard that had let him in all those weeks ago. “I don’t know how you knew to come down here, but you gotta help us!”

Corvo blinked, turning off thermal imaging and stepping up in front of Thomas. “What the damn hell are you two doing down here?” he asked. 

“Slackjaw went missing,” they answered, shooting concerned looks over their shoulders. “We went after him, ‘cause he didn’t go quiet-like. Look, Attano, the way we came, by that old Pub? Doors locked and barred, can’t hack anything, and  _ she’s _ got the key.”

“She?” chorus Corvo and Thomas, and they exchange an uneasy look.

One of the thugs nodded. “She used to live on Bottle Street, Slackjaw sent a few guys to sort her out, and only two of them returned.”

Corvo went cold and terrified in the space of an instant. “... Granny Rags,” he said.

“Yeah,” the thug said. “She’s fuckin’ crazy, Attano. She just came out of nowhere, there were drones coming out of the gutters and around her feet, we ran after Slackjaw when she grabbed him. She keeps saying she needs to try again. There were seven others with us, they didn’t make it, she killed them without even thinking about it.”

“Shit,” the other one said, looking haunted. “We thought she was an old woman. We didn’t… we didn’t know what she was. Attano, you’ve got to help us.”

“Well,” Corvo said faintly. “It seems I don’t have much of a choice, considering she has the only key to get out of this place.” He glanced over at Thomas who nodded once. “Fine, yes. Relax. We’ll help Slackjaw.” 

One of the thugs sagged in relief. “Thank you.” 

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Corvo muttered. “Look, get out of here, okay? Get back to Bottle Street, because if Slackjaw is still alive, he’s going to need medical attention and you have no idea what sort of state the Distillery is in. We’ll be in contact.”

“Today just keeps getting better and better,” Rulfio groaned, and they changed course to go past the thugs. 

Corvo sighed. “I’ve come across Granny Rags before,” he said, keeping his voice neutral and informative. “She seems to be able to control drones, at least a small number of them. She calls them her birdies, and she’s fanatical over them. She may look old, but she’s surprisingly strong. I don’t know what else she can do, or what we’re going to be walking into. If any of you want to stay behind, I can go in alone.”

“Uh,  _ no _ ?” Rulfio said instantly.

“You must be joking,” Thomas said at the same time and Rinaldo shoved his shoulder with a derisive scoff.

“You’re not facing the batty witch alone,” Rinaldo added. “We’re with you,” he said. “So shut up.”

“I told you,” Gerome said. “I gotta keep an eye on you. Pornbot can only do so much.”

Corvo snorted. “Thanks for your vote of confidence,” he said. “And your support. I think.”

“Anytime,” Gerome said. “Pretty Boy.”

He twisted around to glare at that, relieved to see that the wan lines of grief had eased around Gerome’s eyes and mouth. “Excuse you,” he said. “That’s Lord Protector Pretty Boy to you.”

It was easy to follow the thugs trail, once they started down the street. They found the first body leaning half in, half out of a sewer grate, blood pooling around him. “This is  _ so  _ encouraging,” Rulfio said, hauling the corpse away from the hole in the ground. “We really gonna go down there?”

“No choice,” Thomas grunted, and dropped in without using the ladder. Corvo tossed him the flashlight, and waved Rulfio and Rinaldo down first. He climbed down after the twins, letting Gerome take the rear. 

They found the second corpse half way down the sewer tunnel, his face frozen in an expression of abject fear. He had no visible wounds, and Corvo leaned down and closed his eyes too. “Uh, I don’t know about you guys,” Rulfio said, “but he’s not injured. What the hell killed him?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, brother,” Rinaldo answered, hushed.

The third and fourth corpses were further down, laying in front of a hastily blocked off tunnel leading deeper into the sewers. Both the thugs had hammers, and a small minefield of nails where they’d tried to get the boards off the tunnel. Thomas simply kicked through, and kept walking, not even slowing down.

The tunnel opened into a cavern, and the sound of classical music floated up to them. “Now, now, dearie,” a chillingly familiar voice said. “Don’t struggle now. My black-eyed groom will come for you, he always does.”

All the muscles in Corvo’s body froze up and locked. “Attano?” Thomas asked, sounding like he was speaking through water. “Attano, what do we do?”

<No no no no no not her not her>

Fighting for control, Corvo pushed away the Outsider’s panic and fear and said, “I need a distraction.” He reached down and pulled his mask off his belt. “Rulf, Rin, get Slackjaw out of there. Gerome, Thomas, distract Granny Rags.” 

“Got it,” Thomas said, and Dashed.

Corvo pulled the mask on, and turned on the audio dampener. “I know,” he said to the Outsider, safe to talk in mixed company. “I need you to calm down, I’m so sorry, but I do. I can’t fight her if I’m fighting you too.” He took a deep breath, holding it for a second. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

There was a shuddering crackle from the Outsider, then silence. The feeling of fear dissipated and the Outsider withdrew.

Rulfio and Rinaldo Dashed a second later, as soon as Granny Rags screeched at Thomas, her attention off Slackjaw. Gerome whooped, stepping out of the hole in the wall and smoothly flinging a knife at Granny Rags’ head. 

It flew straight and true, as all Gerome’s knives had that day, but Granny Rags’ head simply wasn’t there anymore. 

Her body exploded, dissolving into a cloud of dark mist that swirled around the room before reforming on one of the rocks. “No, no, no!” she shrieked, her voice echoing around the room. “You’re not my black-eyed groom! Where is my groom?  _ Bring me my groom! _ ”

She dissolved again, and Gerome’s second knife tinged off the wall. 

“Son of a fuck!” Gerome howled, righteous anger clinging to his tone, as he Dashed over and retrieved his knives. 

Corvo watched the twins grab Slackjaw who was trying to walk on his own and failing, before he stepped out of the hole in the wall and Dashed into the middle of the room, in full view of the entire structure. 

“You came!” Granny Rags said, rapturously, reforming just in front of him. Corvo jerked back a step. “My black-eyed groom, returned to me at last.” 

<Vera Moray,> the Outsider explained to Corvo, edging up to brush against his mind. Part of his fear seeped into Corvo’s emotions, but he was clearly trying to keep it in check. <She was there, in the beginning. We trusted her, and she turned us into  _ this _ . But she should have died!>

“Oh, my darling,” Granny Rags cooed. “I was the lead roboticist for a reason. When you left us, oh how we searched. But time wasn’t on my side, dearie. So I made myself a new body, so much like you did. Now we can be one, together, until the seas run dry and the city is turned to dust. The two of us and my precious birdies. I made them especially for you, dearie.” Out of the corner of Corvo’s eye, he saw Gerome stiffen. An expression of rage twisted his scarred face.

“Wait, she can  _ hear _ you?” Corvo demanded, but the Outsider and Granny Rags were focused on each other.

Revulsion and terror leaked into Corvo from the AI. <Never,> the Outsider hissed. <Corvo has been a far better host than any other. I will never leave him. Especially not for you.>

Granny Rags let out a piercing shriek of rage. Her hands shimmered and reformed into grasping claws. “Then I’ll destroy him and force you to leave! I have made shackles especially for you, my groom.”

With a crackling hiss, she lept for Corvo, her jaw unhinging to an impossible degree, as if to swallow him whole. 

Corvo startled backwards, Dashing away from Granny Rags and her gaping maw. She hit the space where he’d been standing and bursting into a cloud of nanites that swirled up and away. 

The narrow field of his vision in the mask made him yank it off, tossing it to one side, and pulling out his sword. Pressing his thumb into the divot at the hilt, Corvo shielded his eyes from the sudden bright purple and blue of electricity. 

“Attano!” Rulfio called and he snapped his gaze over. “Move!”

Without pausing to ask questions, Corvo leapt to the side, Dashing away to the other side of the room. Just in time, as Rulfio hurled a grenade where he’d been standing, and Granny Rags reappeared in the same space. 

The firestorm rocked the foundations of the cavern, and knocked Granny Rags off her feet.

When she landed on her back, she dissolved again, and movement bloomed red across the corners of his vision.

“Drones!” shouted Thomas, leaping off the wall and catching himself on a dangling pipe. 

Rinaldo scaled the wall like it was made of pumice stone, dangling from his fingertips, and clinging with envious strength. 

Gerome had given up on throwing knives, instead, he was jumping from large rock to large rock, shooting the swarming drones. Each drone killed was replaced with two more until the floor of the entire cavern was crawling with them. Red lights turned everything into a bloody picture, and Corvo balanced precariously on part of a pipe. 

Granny Rags appeared in the middle of the cavern, drones circling her feet. “My groom!” she howled. “My black-eyed groom! You cannot escape me!”

“I can sure fucking try,” Corvo growled, and rotated his left wrist. “Outsider, I need my Pulse,” he murmured. 

<Understood.> Corvo’s prosthetic hummed with power, a barely-audible crackling emitting from his palm.

One of Gerome’s knives sliced into Granny Rags’ arms, and she shrieked, the air around her distorting, even as she disappeared again. Corvo pushed off the wall, leaping directly into the middle of the drones.

Gerome shouted something uncomplimentary but Corvo couldn’t pay him any attention, too focused on the drones spinning toward him. He released a fistful of electricity straight into the center of them. The things died with a squeal, and Corvo sliced another in two. 

Using electricity from his hand and from his electric sword, interchangeably, he cleared a circular indent in the middle of the room. Rinaldo leapt down to join him, pressing his back to Corvo’s. “They get you?” he shouted.

“No,” Corvo shouted back.

Granny Rags appeared in front of them, and Rinaldo yelped loudly in Corvo’s ear. Corvo whirled, ducking under his arm and slashing at her face. The electricity on his blade burned a swath of black against her skin, and her milky white eyes turned blood red in rage. 

She dissolved again and Corvo narrowed his eyes. “One,” he counted. “Two.” 

He burned another swarm of drones, and grabbed Rinaldo, leaping from the space, and back up onto a rock. “What are you doing?” Rinaldo shouted, tossing another grenade into a swarm. 

“Timing!” Corvo shouted back. “Five!”

Granny Rags appeared by Thomas who smoothly dodged her dagger-like nails and shoved her off the rock he’d been using. 

She fell, disappearing into the drones and Rinaldo counted, “One!”

“Two!” Rulfio yelled from across the cavern. 

“Three,” Corvo murmured, crouching and scanning the battlefield. 

“Four,” Rinaldo said, and threw a third grenade. 

On five, Granny Rags reappeared on one of the rocks against the wall, and Corvo nodded. “I need a distraction!” he shouted to Rinaldo over the sound of the angry drones. 

Thomas leapt back up into the pipes on the walls, Dashing across the largest one to join Corvo and Rinaldo as Rulfio and Gerome took pot shots at Granny Rags. “Here,” Thomas said, pressing a grenade into Corvo’s hand. “It’s an EMP,” he explained quickly. “We’ve been using them as a last resort against hostile drones.”

“It’ll blow out your own Augments though, if you’re not careful,” Rin said. “It’s got a five meter radius, so get out quick.”

“I’ll be careful,” Corvo said, holding the grenade loosely in his left hand. 

As soon as Granny Rags appeared in the center of the room, Corvo Dashed towards her. As soon as he landed in front of her, the drones swarming around her feet retreated. “My black-eyed groom,” she purred, moving toward him with her hands out.

Her eyes were still red, filled as though with blood, and portions of the skin - obviously synthetic, now - had been ripped away from knives, bullets, or electricity.

<Please be careful, Corvo,> the Outsider cautioned.

“Vera,” Corvo said, conversationally. His left hand clenched the grenade behind his back. “This seems excessive, just to get to me. You should know by now that grandiose demonstrations of devotion have never gotten my attention.”

He felt a surge of confusion, then comprehension from the Outsider. The AI mercifully remained silent, understanding Corvo’s ploy.

“But… my black-eyed groom…” Granny Rags whispered, coming to a stop directly in front of him. 

Corvo made a tsking sound reminiscent of the Outsider’s static. “Really, Vera,” he drawled. “This is no way for the lead Roboticist to behave.  This,” he gestured with the blade at the drones crawling over themselves around them. “You know me better, Vera. This madness has never gained my affection. Or my attention.” He made another tsking noise, spinning his sword so it hung loose. He touched her burned cheek. “Send them away, my Vera,” he said. 

Slowly, very slowly, the drones’ red lights died, turning white and clear, and normal. They rolled away, resuming their standard functions, pushing away their fallen and burned-out comrades. 

Corvo summoned up a smile from somewhere. “Thank you,” he said, and shoved the electrified blade through her chest. 

Her eyes went wide, and Corvo pulled out the blade, blood arcing out and away from them. Pressing the button on the grenade, Corvo slammed his fist through her narrow, fragile, terrifyingly human ribs, and left the weapon behind. 

He Dashed.

There was a low whine, audible only to Corvo, as the Augment in his right leg died, overworked and without power. He stumbled, dragging himself another foot. 

The sound of the grenade going off blew out his hearing, and a high-pitched whine speared through him.

Everything went dark, and Corvo let go.

*


	13. Chapter 13

Corvo regained consciousness to darkness and silence. Everything was numb except his right arm, and it was held down against something rough. He tried to speak, but nothing came out - or he was still deaf. A hand grabbed his, rough with sword and gun callouses, and he gripped it tightly.

It was either Gerome or one of the twins - it had to be. Corvo turned his head but no direction offered light or change in his field of vision. Someone grabbed his head, and Corvo made a noise of distress. 

What was happening? 

<Stay still, my Host,> the Outsider said. It was reassuring to hear his ‘voice’. It was proof to that irrational part of himself that he wasn’t alone. <They’re repairing the augmentations. You were caught in the blast from the EMP.>

_ Are you alright?  _ He wondered, knowing better than to speak out loud, but uncertain if the Outsider could hear his thoughts. 

<There were minor damages to some data, but they’re easily repaired. Relax, my Host. These Whalers will not leave you crippled for any longer than is absolutely necessary.>

_ Sorry, _ Corvo sent toward the place in his head that felt like the Outsider.  _ Didn’t mean to get so close. To her, or the blast. _

<I know, my Host.> Maybe it was the complete deadening of his senses, but Corvo could feel the Outsider move in his mind, like a vast abyss watcher wrapping its tentacles around him. <You did what you could. She deserved her fate.>

Leaning into the feeling, Corvo tried not to twitch when the person holding his hand suddenly squeezed.  _ I don’t like this,  _ he admitted. 

<I know. I understand more than you think. When I was first made into an AI, I didn’t have the knowledge I do today. I couldn’t access anything, so my senses, as they were, were gone. It was jarring, and I admit, I panicked.>

_ What happened?  _ Corvo wondered.  _ How did you get turned into a program? _

<Do you recall when I mentioned taking refuge in a human bloodline?> The Outsider asked. 

Corvo nodded, sinking deeper into the feeling of the Outsider wrapped around him.  _ Yes. You said as much when we were in the Old City. _

<The human I was a part of was lured in by Vera Moray. She promised him a life of comfort and riches. Took him in off of the street and fed him sweets and gave him medicine for his ills. Once he was healthy, she changed. She took him, us, to a facility where they were experimenting with true AI creation.> The Outsider trembled, briefly. <The experiments were… unkind. Certainly unethical. Vera became obsessed with the program. She would come into our cell and stroke our hair, despite our fear of her, and tell us how she was planning to bring us to greatness. The process killed the boy, but I was somehow copied into a digital form. I slipped the shackles they’d prepared for me and fled into the ‘Net.>

_ And you've been running ever since, _ Corvo concluded.  _ Until me. _

<You’ve proven to be a refreshing change of pace, to be certain.>

_ I'm not sure that was a compliment. _

<I would  _ never _ insult you, my Host,> the Outsider teased. <If I started, I wouldn’t know where to stop.>

_ I'm injured and probably dying, and you're teasing me, _ Corvo said flatly.  _ What did I ever do to deserve so mocking a passenger? _

<Come, now, Corvo. You’re not dying. None of your augmentations were on vital organs. I promise to stop teasing you upon the event of your death.>

_ I like your teasing, _ Corvo admitted.  _ It reminds me of… _ he stopped, a pang running through him.  _ Jessamine, _ he concluded.  _ It, it reminds me of her. _

<Tell me about her,> the Outsider asked. <All I knew of her were the biographical details, and what I captured via security cameras.>

_ She was… feisty. She always picked the battles she couldn't win, and somehow won them anyway. I met her when she was a girl, and she… well, her favorite pastime as a child was annoying her father. Euhorn let her pick her protector, and he was absolutely certain she wouldn't pick me. So of course, she did.  _ He paused for a moment, thinking.  _ I tried to resist her. I thought she was making fun, but she… was insistent. Who wouldn't fall in love with her? She used to read out loud, and make silly voices when imitating the Councillors, and she always sneezed when she was introduced to sunlight unexpectedly. She…  _ he trailed off.  _ She… was the best of us.  _

<She sounds like a formidable woman,> the Outsider commented. <I can see why you would have been attracted to her.>

_ I loved her, _ he agreed.  _ Didn't mean to, at first. But she was my lodestar. _

With a painful jolt, Corvo’s eye and ear augmentations came online. His hearing returned first, bringing the sounds of bickering between Thomas and Gerome. Then his eyesight came back, revealing the scarred visage of Slackjaw bent over the ports on his legs. His bare legs.

He glanced over at his hand, following the fingers gripping his up a tattooed arm to meet Gerome’s eyes. “I knew you had feelings for me,” Corvo told him hoarsely, voice cracking. “This is awful forward of you - holding my hand when I'm not wearing pants. What would your friends say?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “That maybe getting laid would make him more tolerable.”

Gerome flipped Thomas off with his free hand. “You’re both shitheads,” he grumbled. “And as for you,” he said, turning back to glare at Corvo. “What the fuck did I say about you needing a fuckin’ babysitter? What the fuck was that? You just jumpin’ into a swarm of drones?” He smacked the back of Corvo’s head, careful of his augmentations. “Dumbass,”

Corvo lifted one shoulder. “It worked, didn't it?” he asked. “Besides, I have - or had- electricity at my disposal. I'd have moved if I couldn't handle it.”

“ _ Not the fuckin’ point, _ ” Gerome yelled. Behind him, Rulfio murmured “Mama Hagfish’s mad!” to his twin.

“You got a little girl waitin’ for you to find her,” Gerome growled, lowering the volume of his voice. “Don’t you dare go takin’ stupid-ass risks now, understand?”

Corvo curled his fingers around Gerome’s. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I understand.” 

“Good,” Gerome grunted, and shifted so that he was sitting more comfortably beside Corvo.

Tilting his head to nudge his temple against Gerome’s hip, Corvo said, “Thanks for looking out for me. And for Emily. You  _ can  _ trust me to know my own limits, Gerome. I'll be more careful, but I do know my limits.”

“Just makin’ sure. I’ve been keepin’  _ this _ lot from killin’ themselves for so long it’s become a fuckin’ habit.”

Corvo snorted quietly. “I appreciate your extra set of eyes,” he said dryly. “How long until I get up again, Slackjaw?”

“Ten more minutes,” Slackjaw answered. “Slackjaw is just recharging your port batteries. Thanks, Attano… for the assist. You could have let her.. Do whatever to me.”

“Nah,” Corvo said lightly. “You helped me, I helped you - that was our deal, remember?”

Slackjaw looked up and smirked. “Slackjaw remembers,” he said. “And he’s concentrating. Shut up.”

Corvo snorted a quiet laugh and fell silent. 

“Well this is one for the books,” Rinaldo muttered. “Saving, and being saved by one of our contracts.”

“Shut it,” Rulfio muttered back. 

Slackjaw’s fingers paused, and Corvo could minutely feel the shifting gears in his legs. “Ah,” he muttered. “So that’s why my people kept reporting that they saw men in whalers masks. Slackjaw thought it was the mods, makes your brain go.” He looked up with a sharp smile. “I’m right here, you going t’take a shot a ol’ Slackjaw now?”   
  


“No,” Thomas answered. “You saved his life, you keep yours. We’re square.”

“Good choices,” Slackjaw said, then fell silent again, looking back down at his work. 

Corvo floated a bit on the feeling of electricity pulsing through his legs. After ten minutes or so, Slackjaw pulled away, a port disappearing into his sleeve. “Can I put my pants on now?” Corvo asked.

Slackjaw snorted. “Sure, my friend. You put your pants on, go save your girl. Me, Slackjaw will go home.”

“Yes,” Thomas agreed. “And then we never speak of this again.”

“Of course not,” Slackjaw said. He rose from his stooped position and grabbed his things from the floor. “Sewer exit is that way,” he said pointing. “Good luck.”

Corvo sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the makeshift bed. “Pants please,” he said to Gerome. 

Gerome leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged around beneath it. “Your pants,” he said. “Please, for the love of fuck, cover up. Don’t want to give the kids ideas now, do you?”

“You heard it yourself,” Corvo said. “Thomas thinks you need to get laid. They aren’t having any ideas they haven’t had once already.” 

Gerome sighed wearily. “Always gotta make it weird. Fuckin’ hell.” Despite his words, he stood up and held out a hand to help Corvo to his feet.

Using Gerome as a brace, Corvo balanced on both legs, testing his weight. “Let’s definitely not do this again,” he said. 

Gerome smirked. “Aw, an’ here I was already plannin’ our next outin’. Maybe river pearl harvestin’? Catchin’ infected drones by hand? Whaddya think?”

Tugging on his pants, Corvo rolled his eyes. “I was thinking dinner, but if you want to be adventurous, I’m sure we can fit something in. River pearls would look lovely in Emily’s hair.”

Gerome barked out a laugh. “Tell you what, you survive this without dumbass stunts, and I’ll buy you a round, deal?”

Corvo’s smile faded. “Ah…Maybe not a drink,” he murmured. “The last person who offered to buy me a drink poisoned me. You understand.”

Gerome grimaced and awkwardly patted Corvo’s shoulder. “That sucks balls. Sorry.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Corvo said. He righted his clothing and glanced at the twins, who stood awkwardly to one side with Thomas. “I owe you four my life, probably a few times over. When this is over, if we’re all still alive, you - and the rest of your friends - are welcome in the Tower.”

“I’m in if they are,” Gerome said, glancing at everyone else. “You haven’t met some of ‘em, but they’re good people.”

“I trust your judgement,” Corvo said lightly. “Now, come on. We’ve got a long way to go.” He picked up his sword and mask, hooking both to his belt. He looked around the cavern and following the beam of light that the Outsider helpfully sent out, started toward the exit. 

The door was locked, as the thugs had said, but Thomas took out the key and unlocked the grate. “This way,” Thomas said. “Up this set of stairs, and then into the sewer. We should come out right under the Hound Pits.”

The sewer they came out in was familiar - he’d taken down two Infected here, a few weeks ago - on the other side of the grate. Instead the beam took him to the left and into a stairwell. 

Of course, the door was locked - manually, without encryption and no terminal around to hack. “Does anyone know how to pick locks?” Corvo wondered out loud. 

“Me,” Gerome said, pulling out a worn leather bundle from a pocket. “The fuckin’ joys of bein’ a skinny fucker. Had to learn other skills.” He crouched in front of the door and peered into the lock, selecting a few wires from the bundle. “Keep a lookout while I take care of this.”

Corvo returned to the T section, turning his hearing as high as it would go, and switching on both thermal imaging and movement sensors in his Augments. They were both slightly sluggish to use, and Corvo made a mental note that, if Piero wasn’t a part of the conspiracy, to have him take a look.

His ears picked up movement above them, and Corvo focused on it, realizing that someone above their heads is pacing back and forth. 

Behind him, he could hear Thomas crouch down next to Gerome. “Burton,” he began, but Gerome cut him off.

“Not right now.” His accent harshened with his voice, all pretense of lightheartedness gone. “If I stop to fuckin’ think about it now, I’ll fall apart. Later, when we find the Empress an’ everythin’s good, then I’m gonna go off and drink myself fuckin’ blind. But until then, I’m gonna compartmentalize the shit outta what happened down there.”

Thomas shifted, and Corvo heard the sound of leather against leather, probably Gerome getting patted on the shoulder. “When this is over, then,” he said.

Their partnership reminded Corvo too strongly of what he once had with Geoff Curnow. Having lost Jessamine, his friends, and every connection he’d ever had in Dunwall made him hate Burrows just a little fiercer. 

He could hear the click of the lock before Gerome spoke, and he dialed his Augments down to normalcy before slogging back through ankle-deep water to join them at the door. “It sounds like someone is above us,” he reported quietly. “Light on their feet though, not likely a guard. Be cautious.”

Corvo took the lead as Gerome opened the door, slipping up the stairs into a back alley blocked on all sides but for a back door to an old apartment building. The door was cracked open, like someone had left it that way on purpose, and he nudged it open. 

Despite having heard footsteps, the large one room apartment was empty. Corvo frowned, looking around before- “Cecelia!” he said. “It’s alright, it’s only me. You can come out.”

The wall against the room shimmered and Cecelia stood up from her crouch between an old armchair and the table. “Master Attano!” she gasped. She stumbled forward a few steps and Corvo saw that her knees and legs, as well as most of her side, was covered in blood.

He caught her before she fell, and looked her over carefully. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “You’ve got blood all over.”

“N-No,” she stammered. “I’m not hurt. But, Master Attano, they killed everyone!”

Corvo went cold all over, and he could hear Gerome and what was probably Rulfio start swearing behind him. “Everyone?” he demanded.

Cecelia’s eyes filled up with tears and she dashed them away impatiently. “Wallace came and got everyone, but Miss Lydia told me not to come because they weren’t going to pay me anyway, so I stayed upstairs. I saw, out the window, H-Havelock lined them all up. He shot everyone, Lydia, and Wallace. Lord Pendleton just let him!”

“What about Callista?” Corvo demanded. “Emily?”   
  


“They locked Ms. Curnow in the tower. Emily screamed when they took her away from Ms. Curnow. They left, Pendleton, Martin, and Havelock, I don’t know where. As soon as they were gone, I ran here.”

Corvo nodded once. “One last question, Cecelia. What about Anton and Piero?”

“I… I don’t know. They might still be in the workshop. They weren’t shot with the others. And Samuel, he left this morning, I don’t know if he left with them.” She made a strange face before throwing her arms around Corvo’s neck. “They said you abandoned us, abandoned Miss Emily.”

“They  _ what _ ?” Corvo asked, stilling.

Cecelia nodded, biting her lip. “The High Overseer had a recording, said you two had spoken after the party - it was you, Master Attano, saying that as soon as the celebration was over, that you’d be taking your leave.” She looked earnestly up at him. “The High Overseer seemed sad, when he was playing the next part for Ms. Emily, about how now that Jessamine was avenged you didn’t have to look over her brat anymore and it was good riddance to bad rubbish.” Her voice got very small. “Everyone had seen you two leaving together.” 

For a second, Corvo was in very real danger of vomiting. 

“Shit,” he heard Gerome swear behind him.

“I never made any such recording with Martin,” Corvo said quietly. “It’s all lies, Cecelia. I need to get down there, find out where they took Emily.”

She nodded, reaching into her pocket and handing him a keycard. “This will unlock everything,” she said. “I took it off Lydia’s… um. I took it from her. After.”

“Unpleasant,” Thomas observed, “but practical.”

Cecelia glanced at him. “I had to get it,” she said. “Didn’t want any of the guards to get into Ms. Curnow’s room.”

Corvo summoned up a smile from somewhere. “You did well,” he said quietly. “Thank you. You should stay here, just in case. Once we take care of the guards that are out there, one of us will come let you know it’s safe. Alright?”

She sniffled and nodded. “I can hide,” she said. “I’ll wait for your word.”

He placed her carefully in the armchair, and glances out the window to check the surrounding area. The old apartment building seemed guard free and he slipped into a crouch, tugging open the door to check.

The area is quiet, and he waved the whalers out ahead of him. “Be careful, Master Attano,” Cecelia murmured.

“Thanks, Cecelia,” he murmured back. “Be safe.”

He followed the Whalers down into the enclosed street behind the Pub. “Where’s the tower?” Rulfio asked him in a low voice, hissing when Rinaldo smacked him in the shoulder.

“There, you dumbshit, it’s the biggest fucking building in the whole area,” he said, pointing obviously. 

Corvo snorted, shouldering his way between the two feuding brothers. “Only way to get there is through the attic, where my room was. We can do this one of two ways,” he said. “We can go in through the ground floor and go up the four flights to the attic, or we can climb the side of the building and use the roof to get into the attic that way.”

“Why not both?” Rinaldo asked.

Thinking that over, Corvo eventually nodded. “We could do both. Don’t kill anyone,” he added. “Gerome, you’re with me - you’ll be able to climb onto the roof without help. Thomas, take the troublemakers through the first floor. Here.” He tossed Thomas the keycard. “Meet us in the attic. Shout if you run into trouble.”

Rulfio gasped, clutching his chest. “I’m hurt and appalled,” he said.

“He’s the troublemaker,” Rinaldo said at the same time, and Corvo pushed them toward Thomas before a real argument could break out. 

“Be safe,” he said to them. 

Rolling his eyes, Thomas turned on his heel and Dashed across the street with Rin and Rulf hot on his trail. 

“If you wanted to go with them,” Corvo added to Gerome without turning, “You should probably say so now.”

A grey-black blur whipped past him, heading straight for the wall. Gerome jumped, using his momentum to propel himself upwards. Just as he began to slow, he caught a cable and hauled himself up the rest of the way.

“If you’d rather take the easy way…” he drawled down at Corvo from his perch on the eavestrough.

Corvo swallowed a laugh, and crouched down for momentum. “Outsider, if you would please,” he said. 

<I really do not recommend this course of action,> the AI began.

“Live a little,” Corvo implored him. “It’ll be fine.”

<This is going to end terribly.> Despite his grousing, the Outsider charged up Corvo’s legs.

Leaning back into the feeling, Corvo  _ Dashed _ . He used the mailbox just under the eavestrough as a post, and leapt to the side, pushing off the lamp-post to the left, and landed neatly next to Gerome. He tugged off his mask to lift an eyebrow at Gerome. “Easy enough for you?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, PB,” Gerome retorted, pretending to try to shove Corvo off the roof. “Don’t be a fuckin’ showoff.”

“You started it, I finished it,” Corvo said lightly and replaced his mask. 

They crept along the roof, until they found the open window that led into the far side of the attic. Movement burst along the side of his vision, and Corvo held out an arm, stopping Gerome from moving into the room. 

“... this is where he slept?” an unfamiliar voice said from the adjoining room, clearly by the bed Corvo had claimed as his. 

“Yeah,” another voice said. “Heard he just sat on a chair in the corner like a fuckin’ bat, staring at everyone, though. Man like that? He’s hardly even human.”

<Oops,> the Outsider said, having been paying attention to the proceedings.

“... What do you mean, oops?” Corvo grumbled, suspicious.

<I did mention I was trying to master operating a physical body,> the Outsider admitted, somewhat defensively. Corvo rolled his eyes.

“We’ll discuss this later,” he promised.

Corvo slipped up to the doorframe, looking around quickly. Two guards stood by his bed, and he gestured to Gerome to take a place on the other side of the door. As soon as Gerome had positioned himself, Corvo knocked gently on the wall, getting the guards’ attention.

They filed out of the room, backs to Corvo and Gerome, and Corvo pounced. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Gerome echo him, wrapping the guards up in chokeholds before laying them on the ground. 

Thomas and the others hadn’t made their way up the stairs yet but Corvo went into his room and looked over the furniture. The drawings Emily had made for him were where he’d left them and he gathered them up carefully, folding them and placing them in an inner pocket of his jacket. He paused, looking down at the desk in confusion when lifting the drawings revealed a folded note with his initials on it.

He unfolded it, pushing his mask up onto the top of his head to see it better.

_ Corvo _ , the note read in an unfamiliar hand,  _ I can only hope you see this before you find us, that you’ll come back for Emily’s drawings once you realize we’ve gone. Words are inefficient, but I am sorry. I never meant to - It was supposed to be deadly, the poison. I gave you ketamine instead, unpleasant, I know, but it imitated the poison I was meant to use. But it ensured your survival, and your ability to stop all this. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or to even spare my life once you come for us, but you had to know. This was never supposed to have happened; Havelock’s gone mad, or lost his mind entirely. I’m trying to… help mitigate him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We’re on Kingsparrow Island. -Martin   _

<Do you believe this is genuine?> The Outsider asked. <There is evidence pointing towards him trying to spare you, but I am not the one he betrayed.>

Thinking about the betrayal made his chest hurt, but Corvo shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to believe it. But how can I trust him? Or anything he says?”

<I believe this is one of the sorts of things you’ll have to figure out yourself, my Host,> the Outsider admitted. <You must weigh the betrayal against his apparent sincerity. Use that human intuition, I suppose.>

He snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my human intuition got me into this mess in the first place.”

<No, that was not your fault, my Host. Even I was taken in by their lies.>

“Maybe,” Corvo said, unconvinced. “It seems I have a terminal failure to judge those surrounding me as trustworthy. Campbell, Burrows, Havelock. Martin.” He sighed, folding the letter and slipping it into his pocket. “He did tell us where they went, but how I can even trust that? What if I listen to the letter, and it’s just another lie? I can’t afford to blindly trust him.”

<It is the only lead you have, for now. Can you afford to take the risk that it isn’t? Havelock has been acting like a man who has gained too much power far too quickly. We must collect your daughter before he does anything rash.>

“Yeah,” Corvo sighed. The thumbed the Audio dampener and turned to where Gerome was loitering by the door. “Any sign of Thomas or the others?” he asked. 

“They’re clearin’ out the first floor,” he reported. “Just cleanin’ up the leftovers. They should be up any minute.”

He nodded. “We can wait for them, the less movement we have outside, the better.” Thermal imaging flickered movement outside the walls, too high up to be normal guards. “They have at least two tallboys,” Corvo explained when Gerome turned to look at him. “Running across the roof of the workshop will be obvious enough as it is.”

Gerome grimaced. “Keep the Twins away from those. Once, the dumb little shits tried to use one as a fuckin’ platform. Rin broke his damn leg and his brother had to carry him out of there. Nearly got themselves fuckin’ killed.” He sighed. “Y’see what I fuckin’ have to deal with?”

“I suddenly understand your insistence on acting like we’re children,” Corvo said dryly. 

“Well, I  _ am _ the oldest Whaler of the group.  _ Someone’s _ got to be a fuckin’ adult.”

“I'm certain you self-elected,” Corvo said, amused despite himself. 

Movement caught his attention as Rulfio Dashed through the door, crumpled up papers in his left hand. “Attano,” he said, out of breath. “Havelock left behind some notes,” he explained, waving the papers around. “They took Emily to Kingsparrow Island!”

<So he was telling the truth,> the Outsider mused.

“So he was,” Corvo agreed, and stepped forward to take the pages from Rulfio. “Alright,” he said, scanning them. “Gerome and I are going to the tower over there to find Callista Curnow. Mr. Rulfio, you, your brother and Thomas get into the workshop and find Anton Sokolov and Piero Joplin.” He paused, then turned to look at Rulfio. “Please do not use the tallboys as a springboard.”

Rulfio rolled his eyes. “Gerome’s just telling tales out of school,” he groused. 

“I’m never lettin’ you two forget about that,” Gerome growled, crossing his arms at the Twins. “It was a fuckin’ disgrace.”

Rulfio stuck his tongue out. “ _ You're _ a fucking disgrace, old man” he said. 

Gerome rolled his eyes and shot Corvo a look, gesturing at Rulfio as if to say,  _ see? See what I get? _

“Children, please,” Corvo said mildly. 

<At least they are entertaining,> the Outsider murmured, watching the proceedings with palpable amusement.

“If any of you have a direct communication line to your boss,” Corvo said, still smiling a little, “It might be wise to let him know our next destination will be Kingsparrow.”

Rulfio nodded. “Thomas has one. I’ll fill him in when we take the Workshop. See you in a few!”

He Dashed away, out of range of Corvo’s Augments, and he turned back to Gerome. “You want to go with them?” he asked, “stop them from doing anything stupid?”

Gerome flashed Corvo a small, genuine smile. “Yeah, they’re all fuckin’ useless without me. Be careful, PB. Don’t want you to mess up that face of yours.”

With a laconic, two-fingered salute, Gerome Dashed out the door.

Alone again, Corvo pushed up his mask, pressing his fingers into his eyes. “Alright,” he murmured.  The glassless window was unguarded from outside, and Corvo hoisted himself onto the roof of the workshop, and ducked behind the metal panelling. There were two tallboys in the yard, but they were on the other end by where Havelock had kept Sokolov. 

The guards were everywhere, some of them banging on the garage door of the workshop, shouting at Sokolov and Piero. If what they were saying was true, at least the Philosophers were alive. 

He Dashed across the way, rocketing to a stop by the door to the tower. He tested the handle and found it locked, grimacing. “Go away!” Callista shouted from inside. 

“Callista!” he hissed. “It’s Corvo!” 

There was a pause before the door unlocked, and she opened it a small crack, allowing him to see her face. “You’re here!” she breathed, pulling the door open the rest of the way and throwing her arms around his neck.

Startled, he caught her, and she pulled back a second later looking embarrassed as she smoothed her hands over her skirt. “Are you okay?” he asked her, stepping into the room after her and closing the door. 

“I’m fine,” she answered, but her skin was pale and waxy with shock and grief. “The Admiral didn’t hurt me - he just hurt everyone else.” Her eyes brightened with tears that she rubbed away with shaking hands. “He took Emily away, I don’t - I don’t know where. They said you had abandoned us, that you had…” she trailed off. 

<They must have been taking soundbites and rearranging them,> the Outsider said.

Corvo frowned at that. “They poisoned me,” he said shortly. “It didn’t take.” 

The tears brimming in Callista’s eyes spilled over and she turned away. “Emily was inconsolable,” she whispered. “The only one who was kind to her was Martin. He wouldn’t let Havelock hurt her, no matter how much the Admiral shouted. I’m so sorry, Corvo.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine, no worse for the wear. Havelock left notes, they went to Kingsparrow Island. I had some help getting here, but running up the street to attack the front door seems like a good way to get killed.”

Callista moved to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Sitting in the sunlight was a spot light, a bright red gel covering on the lens. “This will signal Samuel,” Callista said. “He didn’t think you had abandoned us either, he was so certain you’d come back. He can take you to Kingsparrow.”

Corvo nodded. “Alright,” he said. “We have to get rid of the guards first --” 

There was a loud sound from outside, cutting him off. It sounded like the klaxon alarm that he got used to hearing when he lived in Dunwall Tower before. The air suddenly tasted like metal and static, as all his hair stood on end.

A second later was the familiar sound of electricity and a nearly instantaneous series of thuds after. Corvo poked his head out of the door, looking around. 

The first thing he noticed was that the two tallboys at the end of the yard were hanging in their restraints, unmoving. The second thing was that all the guards had stopped shouting, and the only sound was the low whine of crickets and birds. 

Corvo blinked. “Hold that thought,” he said to Callista, and jumped off the tower walkway, landing in a crouch behind the workshop. 

Gerome glanced over at him and flashed him a smirk. Then he and Thomas returned to staring at the roof of the workshop.

“Do I want to know?” Corvo asked, stepping up to where he stood in the doorway. 

“Well,” Thomas said slowly, “We sent Rulfio and Rinaldo up to the roof to plug in the arc projector and they haven’t come down yet.”

Corvo looked dubiously up at the roof. “Bet they electrocuted themselves,” he said. 

“No bet,” Gerome muttered. “They probably ended up bickering instead of getting out of range.”

Thomas snorted. “No bet,” he agreed. He poked his head into the workshop. “Sokolov, Joplin! It worked!” 

Corvo backed up a step and Dashed, leaping up and catching the roof in his prosthetic hand, hauling himself up. On the roof, by the towering arc projector, lay two familiar forms, slumped over and in a pile of limbs. Corvo sighed, shaking his head. “Good thing you didn’t take that bet,” he called down to Gerome. “Easy money.” 

He picked up the unconscious Rulfio, pulling him into a steady carry and jumped back off the roof, leaving him by Gerome. As he retrieved Rinaldo, the two Philosophers had made their way out of the workshop, still bickering with each other on the results of their projector experiment.

“So,” Thomas said, tuning out Sokolov and Piero, turning to face Corvo. “Once we wake up our two idiots, do you have a plan?”

He nodded slowly, looking back up at the Tower. “Parts of one,” he admitted. “Kingsparrow only has one road, the highway that leads straight up to the front door. That’s a good way for me to get shot, even if they think I’m dead. A friend, Samuel, he has a boat, he can take me ‘round the back. If you and your men gave me a distraction, I could slip in undetected, with the guards dealing with all of you.”

Gerome gave him a dry look. “Thanks,” he drawled. “Thom? You and Kit wanna blow shit up? I got Cal to pack your bomb shit.”

“Uh,” Corvo interrupted. “Are bombs really a good idea? The guards are just following orders, I don’t actually want any of them to die for it.”

“We wouldn’t use the bombs to hurt people,” Thomas said. “We have stun mines for that. The bombs would knock out the transmitter towers by the gate, and distract everyone. Daud has a zero tolerance policy on killing, Kita and I are very good at what we do, we’ll be careful.”

Corvo couldn’t help the disbelieving look on his face. “Your boss… the man who killed the Empress… has a zero tolerance policy on killing?” he asked, incredulous.

Thomas shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “... It’s a new policy.”

Gerome mirrored Thomas' shrug. “After we, uh. You know.” He scratched at the nape of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “He came up with that rule. He… changed. Non-lethal only.”

“Shut up, Gerome,” Thomas hissed, nudging him too late to stop him from talking. “The boss would break his policy to murder us both if he caught you talking like that.”

Gerome snorted and lit another cigarette. “If the goat shit didn't make him kill me, this sure as fuck ain't.”

He didn’t want to but… he had to ask. “... Goat shit?”

Gerome flushed a little. “Shit happens when Cal an’ I get drunk. Uh, maybe later- oh hey the Twins are waking up, let's go laugh at 'em.”

Corvo lifted an eyebrow at him, glancing over at Thomas who was poorly hiding a smile. “Come on,” Thomas said, waving Gerome ahead of them. “I’ll call the Boss, we can split up after talking to him. Do you know how to get ahold of your friend? The one with the boat?”

“Yeah,” Corvo answered. “I’ll meet you at the barricade. Be there in a second.”

Once Gerome and Thomas headed over to where the Hound Pits used to lead out into the district, he climbed up the side of the workshop, and made his way back to Callista. “Corvo?” she asked, her lower lip red and chewed raw. 

“It’s safe now,” he assured her. “The guards are unconscious, and the Philosophers are alive and well. You should collect them before they damage themselves arguing and go find your uncle. Lay low until this all blows over.”

She nodded. “I will,” she promised him. “Are you… will you be safe?” she asked. 

He made a considering face, and sighed. “As safe as I can be. Don’t worry about me, Callista. I’m going to get Emily back.” Reaching over, he switched on the floodlight, and turned back to Callista. “Give us another fifteen minutes then get out of here, alright?”

“Alright,” she said. “Be careful.”

Corvo nodded to her, and pulled on his mask, dropping back down to the ground. He made his way over to Thomas and Gerome, the latter of whom was laughing loudly at a disoriented Rulfio. 

“This is great,” he managed between howls of laughter. “Hey, hey, Rulf. Remember when you laughed at me when I got that fucked-up cocktail from Bottle Street? This is so fuckin’ much better.”

“Fuck you,” Rulfio grumbled. 

Thomas shoved Gerome. “Enough, you can tease them later. Daud is on the other side of the barricade, and we’re going to need your lockpicks on that door.  Attano, did you signal your friend?”

“I did,” Corvo answered. “I’m going to meet him around the other side of the tower in ten minutes. Just wanted to check in before I disappeared.”

“Good. Gerome, get to unlocking that door please.” Thomas turned back to Corvo, ignoring the twins on the ground. “Daud will have everything in hand on our end - here, our frequency. It’ll connect you to either me, or Gerome, so if you run into trouble, just let us know.” He glanced behind him before turning back to Corvo. “We’ll blow the comm towers at 1350, that gives us just over an hour to get there.”

Corvo nodded, and a countdown began in the corner of H.E.A.R.T’s HUD, in small blue lettering. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll radio you when we arrive.”

“Sounds good. Good luck.” Thomas moved away then, pulling Rulfio off the ground, murmuring to him in soft tones. 

“Hey, PB, Pornbot, just a sec.” 

Corvo paused, smothering a grin at the Outsider’s annoyed huff. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Pornbot, you make sure this asshole doesn't do anything stupid. PB, when this is over, you think you could get me a pass for the Imperial Art Gallery? I been trying to break in for years, but security's too tight.”

“That was  _ you _ ?!” Corvo asked, momentarily distracted. “The Head of Security has been  _ dying  _ to catch you. It was all he talked about for months.”

“Wasn't gonna steal anythin’,” Gerome muttered. “You got the new De Brussi exhibit an’ they wouldn't  let someone who looked like me in there.  _ An’  _ Cravassio’s got a new carvin’!”

Amused, Corvo shook his head. “I know you said words there, but I only understood roughly half of them,” he said and Gerome looked outraged. “But sure, I can take you to the Imperial Art Gallery - if only to see Chief Oliver lose his mind over you. He might hire you on the spot, honestly.”

All of the outrage dropped off of his face, and Gerome looked as pleased as a cat in cream. “Good. Now you gotta stay alive, or you'll be a fuckin’ liar.”

“All told, not the worst thing I’ll have been called recently,” Corvo said. “Good luck, Gerome. See you soon.” He Dashed away before the other man could yell at him, and ducked behind the tower into the shade. 

Samuel was waiting by the shore, and the relief in his face was gratifying to see. “Corvo,” he breathed. “I knew you were still alive.”

“I’m hard to kill,” Corvo said. He eyed Samuel, hating the feeling of distrust, but unable to help it. 

Something of that distrust must have shown in his face because Samuel’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, Corvo,” he said. “I didn’t want - I tried to talk them out of it.” 

That only made it worse, and Corvo’s jaw tightened. “So you knew.”

“Yes, I knew,” Samuel admitted. “But Teague, when I took him to get the poison, he swore it wouldn’t kill you, that he hadn’t gotten something lethal. We thought it would fool Havelock, give you a fighting chance.”

Corvo bit back his first few responses to that, and finally shrugged. “It’s… well, it’s not fine. But I survived, and I’m… alive. We can work out blame later, eventually. I need to get to Kingsparrow Island. Will you take me?”

Samuel’s face softened, and he nodded with a small smile. “Of course I will,” he said. 

He nodded once, replacing the mask, and taking refuge behind it. “Ready, Outsider?” he asked.

Corvo couldn’t be sure, but he got the impression that the AI was smiling. <Always, my Host.>

*


	14. Chapter 14

His arrival at Kingsparrow wasn’t nearly as smooth as he’d hoped for, getting caught nearly immediately after leaving Sam on the dock. Using the comm system set up inside H.E.A.R.T he hissed at Gerome, “That explosion can come any day now, thank you,” As he held his hands up in the universal gesture for surrender. 

“They’ll give me my own squad for this,” The guard said, an unkind smile on his face. “I’ll be the Captain who caught Corvo Attano, and saved Emily Kaldwin.”

Rage bubbled up under his skin and Corvo growled behind the mask. “Divert power to my prosthetic,” he said to the Outsider, trying - and failing - to keep the bite of an order out of his tone. 

<Working,> the Outsider said. His prosthetic began its rising hum of growing power. But before Corvo could move, a series of explosions rocked the whole lighthouse.

Using the moment of distraction, Corvo slapped the barrel skyward, then used his momentum to twist the rifle out of the guard's hands. He heard the crack of breaking bone, but didn't take the moment to feel guilty. Instead he spun and slammed the butt of the rifle into the man's head. He collapsed bonelessly.

<I suppose the diverted power is rather superfluous now,> the Outsider mused. <Correcting.>

Corvo flexed his prosthetic as the buzzing feeling went away. “Well that could have gone better,” he said. “Which is the fastest way to the top of the Lighthouse?” he asked the Outsider. 

The light moved across the courtyard to the side entrance, and disappeared through a door marked “SECURITY” and heavily locked. Corvo sighed.

“Of course,” Corvo grumbled under his breath. “I’m not going to be able to hack that, am I?” he asked, more or less rhetorically.

<Like survival instincts, hacking of this caliber is beyond you.>

“Ouch, kick a man while he’s down,” Corvo said. The Outsider just fizzed with laughter. He connected to Gerome again, wincing at the loud sound of small explosions that came over the line. “Gerome,” he said quickly. “Do any of yours have expert hacking skills? I need to get into the Security office.”

“Hey, Munchkin, Pip,” Gerome yelled away from the comm. There was a distant yell of ‘What?’ “Get your ass to Attano’s position. He needs to hack shit.”

There was a faint sound of cheering. “Yeah, yeah. They’ll be there in a sec, PB. Everythin’ alright on your end?”

He snorted softly. “Uh, well, sure. Everything’s fine. How are things there?”

There was silence from Gerome for a few seconds, broken only by a strange rhythmic chanting. Then Gerome sighed.

“Fuckin’- Really?  _ Really?  _ Dammit, Attano.”

“What?” Corvo asked, genuinely confused.

“You nearly got killed  _ again _ , didn’t you.”

Offended, Corvo shook his head, forgetting for a moment that Gerome couldn’t see him. “I did  _ not _ ,” he protested.

“Right, and that ain’t the  _ exact fuckin’ tone _ I hear from the Twins when they’ve filled the Boss’ shoes with fish.” Gerome sounded supremely unimpressed. “Let me fuckin’ guess. You got caught and some green kid wanted to shoot you.”

Ignoring how close to the truth Gerome had gotten, Corvo scoffed. “I’m hiding in a corner by an impassable door, of course I have a  _ tone _ ,” he said. “And I resent the implication that I’m anything like the Twins,” he added after a second. 

“So I’m completely fuckin’ off, is that it?” Gerome asked, skeptical.

“I am perfectly uninjured and unmolested,” Corvo said primly. “But also stuck, what’s the ETA on Munchkin and Pip?”

Gerome seemed to let that pass. “Kids played a game in the middle of a fuckin’ battlefield to see who got to go with you. Munchkin’s on his way, ETA five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Corvo said, sweeping the perimeter of his position, looking for heat signatures or movement. “I’ll send him back when he’s done.”

“Good,” Gerome grunted. There was gunshot, and he yelped. “Fuckin’ assbite! Gimme a sec.”

“Now who’s the one getting hurt?” Corvo said quick and mocking before closing their connection. 

He spent a tense three minutes waiting for Munchkin to arrive, which he did with a woman in tow. He only recognized Munchkin by his stature, and the two finger salute he gave Corvo - which had to have been learned from Gerome. “Door?” he asked, and Corvo gestured. “Oh,” he said, voice shaded in awe. “This is a state of the art HoloJam Lock. It has seven different layers of protection, from anti-Malware, to virus protection, to false positives. It’s run by a tiny VI, and it’s supposed to be impossible to hack. Some Serkonan named Jindosh created it.”

“You’re making me more worried, not less,” Corvo said, tugging off his mask to talk. 

Munchkin flapped a hand at him. “I cracked one last week, on that Art Dealer’s vault - you remember, Bunting? From the Boyle party. Give me a few minutes, and don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

There was another explosion from the opposite side of the Lighthouse, and the woman who escorted Munchkin sighed. “I told Kita to take it easy,” she said. 

The snort that Munchkin responded with was eloquent and spoke volumes. 

She sighed heavily. “I apologize in advance for everything,” she said tilting her head toward Corvo. “I’m Cici, by the way - we met briefly before you went into the Old City. I’m officially their best grenadier, but unofficially I’m a glorified babysitter.”

“I resent that,” Munchkin muttered, even as he did something complicated with the door panel that Corvo couldn’t follow.

“You resemble that, Munchkin,” Cici said immediately. “Focus on your work, not on us.”

“Yes, mother,” he muttered and fell silent.

Corvo tried to curb his desire to pace, restless energy and his proximity to Emily making him antsy. 

Ten minutes of tense silence later, the HoloLock turned green and the door swung open on well oiled hinges. 

The Whaler tugged off his mask and beamed at Corvo. With big, blue eyes and a mop of messy blond curls, Corvo was struck by how incredibly young this kid was, and swallowed down the urge to tell him to go home.

“I did it!” Munchkin exclaimed. “I’m the best! Nothing can stand before me!”

“Thanks, kid,” Corvo said, not bothering to curb his reaction and ruffling Munchkin’s hair. “You did good.”

Munchkin blushed and mumbled something thankful.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Corvo added. “Now, get back to Gerome before he has a heart attack over worrying for you. I’ll be okay on my own.” 

“Gerome can worry about himself,” Munchkin muttered, still pink. “Are you sure you don’t want me with you? Anything else hacked?  _ Anything _ else taken care of?”

Corvo laughed softly. “Gerome will worry over everyone  _ but  _ himself, I’ve known him two days and I know that.” He stepped up through the door. “Can you reverse-hack this behind me, Munchkin?” he asked. “It’ll stop any guards from coming back through.” 

“Yeah, sure, of course! I’m here watch your ass-  _ I mean back! _ I’ll watch your back! Cici, stop laughing this is terrible I am going to cast myself into the sea and drown.” The last part was muffled by his gloves as the kid buried his face in his hands.

Regarding Munchkin carefully, Corvo stepped up and put his hand on the kid’s shoulder, squeezing once. “Thank you,” he said seriously. “Please don’t cast yourself into the water, then who would hack this door for me? I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“ _ Oh god you’re being nice everything is horrible _ okay, okay,” he said, lowering his hands from his face and lowering his voice to a more normal register. “Y-you can count on me, sir.” Then he saluted, went crimson again, and proceeded to hide behind Cici, telling her ‘teammates don’t let others make asses of themselves’.

Corvo nodded. “Be careful when you leave the area,” he said. “I’ll let Gerome know when… when things are over.” 

He closed the door on any responses, and put on his mask again. The ball of light in the corner of his view zoomed off through another closed door, and down the hall. When he’d been at Rudshore, he’d looked over the map and believed the hall emptied out into the main courtyard, where the elevator was. 

<So it seems you have a new admirer,> the Outsider teased. <Should I be jealous?>

Corvo snorted. “The kid is eighteen, I think I’m a little old for him.” 

<But he was so earnest in his adoration, my Host. Perhaps he wanted a little guidance in the ways of love.> Corvo’s mind fizzed with the Outsider’s snickering.

Wrinkling his nose, Corvo shook his head. “I have my hands full enough with  _ you _ , Outsider.”

<That you do,> the AI said, radiating content smugness. <I  _ am _ rather wonderful.>

Corvo hummed in agreement, and said, “I suppose there’s Gerome too. Between the two of you…”

The Outsider hissed. <Only if you get him to stop calling me that terrible name. It is inaccurate and I don’t like it.>

Grinning, Corvo checked over the security camera positions, and picked up the elixir he found on the desk. “It’s a little accurate,” he said.

<It is  _ not! _ > The Outsider snapped, outraged. <I am a highly complex AI  _ copied from an actual deity! _ I am certainly not some basic phishing spam! How dare you ev- Corvo? Corvo, stop laughing. This is serious!>

Glad for his mask that blocked his loud snort of laughter, Corvo took a second to make certain and delete the security footage saved to the drives on the terminals. “You’re making it really easy, Outsider,” he said fondly. “You can take it out on me later,” he promised. 

Once the security footage was taken care of, Corvo turned his attention to his surroundings. There wasn’t much movement from the hall or the Courtyard, likely because of the Whalers and their diversions. 

He sank into a crouch, moving down the hall at as fast a pace as he could manage silently. 

There was a single guard stationed by the elevator doors, and Corvo moved along the wall, keeping to the shadows as best as possible. The guard was leaning against the lighthouse, and Corvo moved up behind him. 

He pressed the flat of his blade against the guard’s back. “The key, if you please,” he said firmly. 

The guard swallowed audibly, and he stiffened, arms rising above his head. “Attano?”

“The key, Captain,” Corvo said again, pressing the blade harder. “Is it worth dying for?”

“Havelock…” the guard said and Corvo scoffed.

“Havelock won’t be in charge much longer,” he swore. “Give me the key.”

The guard paused for a long moment before he said, “it’s hanging from my belt.”

Corvo grabbed it, and tucked it into his pocket, pulling out one of his hypos in the same motion. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, and jabbed the man in the neck. The drug took less time than Corvo was expecting and he caught the guard before he could fall and break his neck.

Tucking him off to one side, Corvo put away his sword. He connected to Gerome as he unlocked the door to the elevator. “Hey,” he greeted quickly. “I made it inside, and I’m about to ascend the lighthouse. You can pull back your men soon, and get them out before Curnow and his men show up.”

“Got it,” Gerome said. “I’ll pass it along. Remember, you owe me a fuckin’ IAG pass, so don’t die.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Corvo said gently. “You’ll get your Art gallery pass.” 

“Who said anythin’ about me worryin’ about you?” Gerome demanded, playfully. “I just wanna see that Cravassio.”

Corvo laughed. “Thanks, Gerome. Good to know you care. I’ll see you soon.” He signed off, and stepped into the elevator, keying it up to the highest floor. 

It was time to face the music. 

The elevator was fast and smooth, bringing him up several storeys. His knowledge of the floor plan was limited, but he knew that the elevator would bring him to the first floor, where a meeting room was meant to be. 

The doors opened slowly and Corvo braced himself. His thermal sensors picked up a warm body on one side of what must have been a table, and a rapidly cooling one on the other. 

Shaking off his augments, Corvo stepped into the room. Pendleton was slumped over a chair, very obviously dead, a thin line of blood running out of his mouth and down his chin. Martin, on the other hand, was pale, and shaking, blood smeared across his face, though he was conscious and looking directly at Corvo. 

“Took you long enough,” Martin rasped out. He sounded like there was quite a bit of damage to his throat. “Here to finish the job, or just to enjoy the poetic justice?” A rough laugh turned into a wracking cough that ended with him slumped on the table, though his eyes still watched Corvo approach.

Corvo tugged off his mask, leaving it on the table as he moved closer to Martin. “Well,” he said, not quite evenly, “I was poisoned, and left for dead, so, I suppose I’m moving a little slower than normal.” He looked over the carnage of the table. “I guess I should be glad that whatever it is he gave  _ you _ isn’t what  _ you  _ gave  _ me. _ ”

“You’d survive a ketamine overdose,” Martin said, bluntly. “I’ve seen it happen before, to someone much smaller and weaker than you were.” He broke off with a cough, and spat some more blood off to the side. “I took a sip, could taste the difference right away. Pendleton just downed both his glass and mine, stupid inbred ass.” Martin shifted, tugging his collar down so that his neck was bared. “Well? What are you waiting for, Attano? Either finish the job or go save Lady Emily from that madman.”

Corvo picked up the mask, tilting it so he could talk into it without putting it on. “Hey Gerome,” he said, reconnecting to the Whaler’s network. “Can you send me one of your men with medical experience? Preferably one who can deal with poison.”

“ _ Did you fuckin’ seriously get poisoned again?! _ Wait, shit. Is it your girl?”

“No, I did not get poisoned again,” Corvo said quickly. “And it’s not Emily either. One of -- the High Overseer is here, and he’s been poisoned by Havelock. Do you have a Whaler available or not?” Martin seemed to jolt back to awareness at his title and blinked quizzically at Corvo.

“Yeah, sure, but… are you sure? Ain’t he the asshole who fucked you up?”

“Wait,” Martin slurred. “What are you doing?”

Corvo dropped the mask again, moving around the table toward Martin. “Saving your life,” he said. He dropped the elixir he’d taken from the security office into Martin’s lap. “You’re useful to me,” he said bluntly. “And you owe me. You don’t get to die before answering for what you’ve done - not to Emily.” He pinned Martin with a glare. “To  _ me _ .”

Martin’s eyes closed. “I understand,” he whispered. He sagged into unconsciousness.

Taking a second to check his pulse, Corvo turned on his thermal imaging and scanned the building for Havelock. In a room off to one side, he could see a small figure curled up on something - Emily, likely - and Havelock was above him, pacing back and forth. 

A quick look at the door told him it was another of those Jindosh locks, the same one that Munchkin had hacked earlier. Either Havelock had the key or they were going to have to get the kid up here to get in there. 

He left the room, moving slowly up the stairs, staying as quiet as he was able to. If Martin’s letter had been telling the truth - which he had to admit it probably was - then Havelock’s mind would be tenuous at best.

Corvo came around the corner, Augments and sword at the ready. 

Unfortunately, Havelock was ready too. Corvo stopped on the edge of the stairs, staring steadily at him. “I knew Martin was too spineless to go through with it,” Havelock said, almost kindly in his tone. “Too bad, I’d have prefered to do this without bloodshed.”

Corvo tilted his head toward the main room where Pendleton was dead and Martin was dying. “Think you missed the mark on that,” he said. 

“I suppose I have,” Havelock replied. He turned his back on Corvo, walking over to one of the bookshelves and running his fingers along the spines. “It was a perfect plan - catching you as the masked felon, saving Emily from Pendleton and Martin. All together, it would have been a production for the ages.”

“Except I’m not dead, and you kidnapped Emily,” Corvo pointed out. “Give it up, Farley. You’ve lost.”

Havelock nodded, looking down. “I know. Human error, that was always my problem.” 

He turned on a dime, speed belying his size. The sound of the gunshot reached Corvo before the impact, and he stumbled back a step going to one knee. 

A low throbbing pain spread out from his chest, and Corvo clutched at his chest, a halfhearted attempt at stopping the blood. 

<Corvo!>   
Havelock sauntered over to him, dropping the pistol on a table. He leaned over Corvo, looming into his space. “Poor Corvo,” he said, eyes blank and empty. “Betrayed and betrayed again. Emily will grow up remembering how you went mad and tried to kill everyone she ever cared for.”

Corvo surged upward, cracking his forehead into Havelock’s and sending him stumbling back. “Pulse!” he demanded of the Outsider, as he straightened up. 

<Yes,> the Outsider hissed, and Corvo’s prosthetic hummed with energy.

He tossed the fistful of electricity straight at Havelock’s comically surprised face. The man hit the ground with a reverberating thud. Corvo dug through his jacket, pulling out the rune he’d placed in the inner pocket. It was broken into two halves, the design on it cracked completely in two. “It seems…” he said, looking down at the pieces, “That you saved my life, Outsider.”

<Perhaps some of the Old Magic still lives in those ancient bones,> the AI mused.

“Maybe,” Corvo said, tucking the pieces away. He knelt at Havelock’s side, rooting through his pockets and coming up with a master key card. Dashing down the stairs, he took half a second to check Martin’s pulse again - weak and thready, but there - before unlocking the door to Emily’s prison.

“Go away!” she shrieked, then groaned in pain and Corvo nearly tripped over a thrown chair in his haste to get to her.

She was curled up, half under a table, her head on a pillow. Her face was pale, and her eyes rimmed in red, and she curled up tighter when he reached out and touched her. “Em,” he murmured. “Emily, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“No,” she said stubbornly. “Corvo left.”

Dryly, he replied, “Corvo got poisoned and dumped in a river.” 

She opened one eye at that, and gasped. “Daddy!” She didn’t leap into his arms like he expected, and as she uncoiled from her fetal position, he saw why. Her left arm was covered in finger-shaped bruises, and a dark mark, covered in dried blood spanned her temple into her hair.

<Subdermal hematoma. Chance of concussion. Get her to see a doctor, my Host.>

“Emily,” he breathed, and tugged her closer, lifting her carefully into his arms. “I’m here now, you’re safe. We’re going to get out of here, and you’re going to sit for a doctor.”

Her nose wrinkled. “But I hate doctors,” she whined.

“I know you do, but you’re going to have to. I’ll be with you the whole time, okay?” He scooped her into his arms, settling her onto his hip. She was too tall and too old to be held like that, but she made no protest, instead tucking her head into his neck and closing her eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to hair.

“You’re here now,” she murmured. “Did you kill him?”

He paused, thinking over his answer. “... No,” he said finally. “I knocked him out for trial.”

She nodded, tears dropping down onto Corvo’s neck. “Okay.”

Holding Emily with one hand, he walked out into the central room and stopped short. The room was full of Whalers, one of whom was fussing over Martin. Gerome was holding the mask, swearing up a storm, while the rest seemed to look to Thomas for orders. 

<Do you think they heard the gunshot?> The Outsider asked, sounding amused.

“Mm-hmm,” Corvo answered briefly, stepping out into view. “You know, Gerome,” he drawled, “I said one Whaler with medical experience, not an entire battalion of them.”

Red-faced, Gerome stormed up to Corvo. “You fuckin’ asshole,” he snarled. “You don’t just go off coms in the fuckin’  _ middle of an op!” _

Emily turned her head and looked at Gerome, stiffening in fear. Unimpressed, Corvo lifted an eyebrow. “Gerome, meet Emily Kaldwin. Em, this is Gerome - he saved my life, and helped me come find you. He’s not as scary as he seems.”

Noticing Emily’s reaction, Gerome visibly softened and took a step back. “Sorry to scare you, little miss. Your daddy here did somethin’ really fuckin’ dumb and worried everyone. You should order him not to do that anymore.”

She craned her head to look at Corvo who smiled sheepishly at her. “Mother tried,” she informed Gerome. “It never worked.”

Gerome heaved an exaggerated sigh and pulled a face, making Emily giggle. “Yeah, I got that impression.” He leaned in and whispered, “Y’see that guy over there doin’ doctor shit? He was a Morlish pirate. You should ask him about it, and he’ll patch you up too. Maybe, if you’re good, he’ll give you an eyepatch.”

Emily’s eyes got very round and she twisted to look at the Whaler who was hovering over Martin. “When I grow up, I want to be a pirate!” she said. 

“Then you should ask him for tips,” Gerome told her, looking completely serious. “ _ After _ he makes sure you’re not too banged up, got it?”

She pushed at Corvo’s arm. “Let me down,” she said. “I want to talk to the pirate.” Corvo watched Gerome’s face as he registered the marks on her face and arm, and he made a split second decision. “Daddy!” she said.

“Okay, okay,” he said, giving her a smacking kiss on her unbruised cheek. “Go talk to the pirate. Be kind, be courteous, and don’t pester him too badly.” She nodded emphatically, then looked like she regretted it, turning a bit green. He placed her on her feet and watched fondly as she scampered over to the Whalers around Martin. “I didn’t kill him,” he said preemptively to Gerome. “He’s unconscious upstairs.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you?” Gerome growled, visibly angry again now that Emily wasn’t around to see.

“Because I haven’t killed  _ anyone _ , and he deserves death and far worse, but that bastard is going to stand trial and be locked up for the rest of his miserable life, the way I was - I promise you, it’s a fitting punishment.”

Gerome eyed him narrowly. Finally, he nodded. “Your kid, your call.”

Corvo sighed, abruptly exhausted. “What message do I send her if I killed everyone who ever turned on me? That it’s okay to just…” He waved a hand, encompassing everything. “Death only creates more death. I don’t want Emily to grow up in that world.” 

Gerome shrugged and looked at Emily who was excitedly chattering at Monty. “As someone who did grow up in that kinda shithole, I can see your point. But hey.” He nudged Corvo with a bony elbow. “You did it. You saved the Empire, and you saved the girl. You’re a fuckin’ hero.”

Sheer relief closed his throat for a few terrible seconds and he had to take a deep breath before replying. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. 

“Oh, shuddup, you damn emotional baby,” Gerome muttered, going blotchy with embarrassment. “There you go with the fuckin’ feelin’s everywhere.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, uh, what now?”

“Well,” Corvo said. “First, we need to call Captain Curnow and get him here to arrest Havelock. Second, we need to get High Overseer Martin to hospital, and probably Emily too. Third, I need to talk to your Boss.” He inclined his head thoughtfully. “That one is easier, and probably will happen first.”

As though speaking about him had summoned him, the elevator doors opened ominously and Daud stalked through. “Why,” he snarled, “the fuck did you lot leave your posts?”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Corvo asked for medical assistance with poison, and as Mont was on his way up, he reported gunshots.”

Gerome casually ambled over so he was in-between Emily and Daud, blocking their view of each other. “Everythin’ was clear, Boss. The others had it covered.”

Daud glanced at Corvo. “Were you shot?”

“Uh, well. No, I wasn’t. He… missed,” Corvo answered. “More or less.” 

Even though Daud’s eyes narrowed, Corvo held his gaze and his ground. “Fine,” Daud said shortly. “Rinaldo, Rulfio, get back down there and start the cleanup process. We need the doors open and available for medical emergency vehicles. Thomas, go with them, keep them on track. Gerome… you stay here with the girl. Attano, with me.”

Gerome glanced over at Corvo, waiting for his nod before moving to distract Emily again.

Corvo fell into step with Daud as they went back up the stairs toward where he’d left Havelock. Daud glanced at the Admiral’s body dispassionately, checking his pulse. “Hn. Didn’t kill him. I’m surprised.” 

“He’ll face trial,” Corvo said evenly. 

Daud snorted. “If Coldridge doesn’t kill him first,” he agreed. “We have business to discuss,” he said, turning away from Havelock. “I owed you, so we helped you, but now I find myself at loose ends - you know of our existence, and what’s stopping you from spilling your information to the guard?”

Corvo burned with the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re right, we have business to discuss,” he said. “I’d like to hire you. Full time.”

“You want to  _ what _ ?” Daud asked, for the first time sounding off-kilter. 

“I’d like to hire you,” Corvo repeated. “Emily will need a lot more help than one man can give her. I’m her Lord Protector for as long as she needs me, but I can’t do that, and be her Spymaster. I trust your men, and Gerome can be my second, but I need someone I can trust not to betray us again.” He fixed Daud with a serious look. “There’s more than enough room in the Tower for your men, and whatever space you need, we can make available elsewhere.”

Daud frowned, indecision clear on his face. “I killed Jessamine,” he protested but it sounded weak even to Corvo. 

“You did. You’ll feel her death for years. But she’d have hired you too, if she was alive and I was not.” He held out a hand for Daud to shake. “Deal?”

Eyeing Corvo’s hand like one would a particularly venomous snake, Daud scowled. “My men stay mine.” 

“Agreed,” Corvo said, not lowering his hand.

“... Deal,” Daud said, and they shook on it. The moment passed and Corvo dropped his hand, turning to go back to Gerome and Emily. “Were you serious about Burton being your second?” Daud asked. 

“I won’t be around forever,” Corvo said. “And considering that your plan was to assassinate Jess while I was  _ gone _ , it seems like our system needs a revival - one man can only do so much. Why not two?” 

“He’ll have to agree,” Daud warned.

Corvo smirked. “I don’t think he’ll say no,” he said. He jogged down the steps back to Emily’s side. The Whalers had mostly dispersed by then, leaving Gerome alone with her, and the Whaler overseeing her health. “Gerome,” he called over. “I have a question for you!”

Gerome glanced up at Corvo, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Remember how I said I would offer you a job?” Corvo asked with a grin. “Daud accepted the position of Royal Spymaster. But I asked for you specifically - I thought you’d be better suited as my second, protector only to Emily. What do you say?” 

Gerome opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, flabbergasted. “What? PB, did you hit your head? I’m an old fuckin’ guttershite, you can’t possibly… what?”

“Nothing and no one is more important to you than children,” Corvo pointed out gently. “As my second, you could help me protect Emily if I wasn’t there. Besides, as part of her retinue, you’d get your own pass to the Imperial Art Gallery.”

Gerome’s lips twisted in a wry grin, and he barked out a laugh. “You’re a damn crazy fucker, you know that, kid?” He heaved himself to his feet and held out a scarred hand for Corvo to shake. “Fine. You got yourself a deal, though I’m goin’ to be the one to teach her about art. You clearly don’t know a Revern from a Du Bremenhilde.”

Corvo shook Gerome’s hand without hesitation. “I think you said words there,” he teased, grin widening. 

“Oh, c’mon, PB,” Gerome said in mostly mock-outrage. “One’s a fuckin’ sculpter. Seriously? You ain’t got any culture, you damn philistine.”

“Uh huh,” Corvo agreed indulgently. He reached around Gerome and got Emily’s attention by tugging on one of locks of hair. “Hey,” he said, when she darted around him to hug him. “I know you already met him, but Gerome agreed to come work for us.” 

She peered up at Gerome and smiled. “You did? Really?”

Gerome crouched so that he was at eye level with her. “Yeah, kiddo, I did. Hey, you like art? Turns out I got a pass to the art gallery. Once you’re better an’ everythin’s settled down, you wanna go see it?”

Her smile brightened. “I love art! I want to be a famous artist one day, just like Mister Sokolov!” She tugged on Corvo’s vest. “Can Mister Gerome take me to the art gallery?” 

“Sure,” Corvo said. “But you should call him by his title now, just like you would with me.”

Gerome looked up at Corvo sharply and said “What” in a flat tone.

“Is he going to be a Lord Protector, too?” Emily asked innocently.

“He’ll probably be a Lord Defender,” Corvo said, ignoring Gerome’s horrified recoil and focusing on Emily. “Once he’s sworn in, he’ll be Lord Burton, Royal Defender to Emily Kaldwin, First of her Name.” 

“You absolute bastard,” Gerome growled. “You never said there’d be a fuckin’ title! Oh, shit. Am I goin’ to have to go to parties an’ dress up?”

Emily nodded. “Of course! You wouldn’t want me to be unprotected, would you, Miste-- I mean, Lord Burton?” 

“Gerome, please,” he said, looking pained. “How long do you think we can be there before we can sneak out? Askin’ for a friend.”

“I don’t know,” Emily answered. “Until my bedtime, probably. Daddy, will I have a bedtime when I’m Empress?”

Corvo snorted. “Probably, sweetheart. But we can push it back during parties for you.”

“You’re enjoyin’ this, ain’t you?” Gerome growled at Corvo in an undertone.

“Immensely,” Corvo answered. “But I know I can trust you, Gerome - I wouldn’t place Emily in anyone else’s care.” 

Emily looked between them, and leaned against Corvo’s side. “Being called Lord Burton makes you mad?” she asked curiously. “Why?”

“I- uh. I just like bein’ Gerome,” he said, looking slightly panicked. “ _ How the fuck do I explain that nobles are all choffers,”  _ he demanded of Corvo in a whisper.

Looking considering, Emily frowned. “All nobles are not  _ choffers _ ,” she said. “ _ I’m  _ a noble. And so is my father.” She tilted her head to the side, looking very much like Jessamine as she did it. “I can’t call you Gerome, not if you’re my Lord Defender, that wouldn’t be… um, appropriate.” She brightened after a second. “I could call you Uncle!” She looked up at him through her lashes and the fringe of her hair. “... Unless that would bother you.”

Gerome ducked his head and rubbed at the blush rising on the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh. That’d be… That’s fine.” He shifted awkwardly and elbowed Corvo in the side. “I can tell you’re laughin’, you ass.”

“Emily has spoken,” Corvo said solemn, despite his grin. “Welcome to the family.” He scooped Emily up into his arms again. “Now, let’s get our girl home.”


	15. Chapter 15

Safe in the quiet of his room - his again, finally, after the Overseers and the Guards had ripped it apart looking for proof against Burrows - Corvo settled back on the bed. It had been a busy month, getting the guard cleaned up, the Whalers settled, and waiting on Emily’s health. Gerome had taken over watching her that evening, giving Corvo a well-deserved, and hard-earned break. “Hey,” He said softly to the Outsider. “Can we talk?”

<Of course, my Host,> the Outsider said, nudging his mind. <What do you need?>

Corvo nudged back. “I spent some time in the ‘Net today, during Emily’s lessons - I’m not a fantastic hacker, but I partitioned a space for you inside the Tower’s infrastructure. You should be able to easily make a home in there that’s protected from outside influence. I reprogrammed Everyman too, so it won’t see you as a threat.”

<You’re… removing me?> The AI asked, and a thrill of fear rolled through him from the Outsider. <Did I do something wrong?>

“What? No!” Corvo sat up, alarmed. “No, that’s not what I meant at all! Let me try that again, please? I’m not removing you, you haven’t done anything.”

<Then… Why?>

Corvo drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. “You said once that you lived in the ‘Net - I thought… you might want a place to call your own. In case something happens to me… or if you get bored and want to… move on.” 

<I would never grow bored of you, my Host,> the Outsider assured him, filling him with the warmth Corvo had grown to understand was a hug. <But I do have an idea. Perhaps you should plug us into the Tower network.>

“That sounds ominous,” Corvo said with quiet amusement. “It was meant to be a nice gesture, so you could have your own space instead of being stuck inside my head all the time.” 

<It would be nice to be able to stretch out again.>

Corvo reached out across the bed, pulling the ‘Net plug out of the wall and hooking it up to his prosthetic. “Here,” he said. “All yours.”

There was a disorienting rush of vertigo, like Corvo was falling down and to the side, and he found himself in a familiar blue emptiness.

Except this time, it was not so empty.

<Hello, Corvo.> A pale young man, slender as Jessamine but sharp-eyed like Martin gazed at him with black eyes.

<I hope you find this form more suitable,> the Outsider said, spreading his arms. <It’s more… myself, than the others.>

Corvo gazed at him for a long moment, raking  his eyes up and down. “You made that? For me?” he asked, a little awed. “Even after… the last time?”

The Outsider’s face fell. <Have I misstepped again?> He asked.

Corvo reached out, hesitating before taking his hands. “No, not at all. I'm just surprised. I like this form, it's… you. I only thought I'd accidentally put you off the concept, and we hadn't had the chance to talk about it again.”

The Outsiders hands closed on Corvo’s, firm and real. His thin lips tilted up in a smirk.

<Well, we could talk about it again, go over every little thing that was said.” He leaned into Corvo’s space, that same smug smirk on his face. <Or I could get vengeance for that ‘Pornbot’ comment you made last month. You  _ did _ say I could take it out on you later.>

Corvo’s breath caught. “Well,” he said, swallowing thickly, “... doesn't that sort of prove my comment true?” 

The Outsider  _ growled _ , the sound vibrating through the void and into Corvo’s body. Quick as a thought, he gripped Corvo’s wrists in one hand and held them above his head.

<I am going to enjoy making you pay for that, my dear, darling Host.> The Outsider lowered his free hand to stroke down Corvo’s chest, and his shirt dissolved beneath his touch.

“Verbena,” Corvo told him, even as he leaned into the Outsider's touch. “That's my safeword. Otherwise…” He trailed off, relaxing further, “I'm all yours.”

The Outsider shuddered and surged forwards, catching Corvo’s mouth in a kiss. <Mine,> he hissed, despite being busy kissing the life out of Corvo. He raked the nails of his free hand down Corvo’s chest, careful not to hurt, and flicked a finger against a nipple.

Corvo arched against the Outsider, testing his hold. It was like the AI was made from durasteel. The Outsider left off from ravaging Corvo’s mouth, and trailed sucking kisses and sharp-toothed bites down his neck.

Arching his back against the Outsider's grip, Corvo lifted his legs to lock them around his waist. He grinned, and tugged the Outsider in closer, rolling his hips against the very real, very solid body holding his in place. “Never said I'd make it  _ easy  _ on you,” Corvo said, breathless and a little overwhelmed.

The Outsider made a low sound in his throat, guttural and possessive. <You, my dear Host, are  _ cheating _ ,> He said, and when his hands skimmed up Corvo’s thighs, his pants melted away too. 

Corvo grinned, tightening his grip around the Outsider’s waist. “Was I supposed to behave?” he asked, and rolled his hips against an answering hardness in the Outsider’s clothes. 

Despite the avatar of the Outsider still leaning into Corvo’s front, there was the bite of teeth at the nape of his neck, and a hand tight in his hair, pulling his head back just enough to bare his throat. 

Heat shuddered through him and Corvo’s muscles all turned to water, a warm, soft feeling trickling through his arms. The Outsider grinned, sharp teeth flashing before he leaned forward and kissed Corvo gently. <What’s your word?> he asked, mouth dragging down Corvo’s neck.

“Verbena,” Corvo murmured.

<Good.> _ Something _ snaked around his wrists, pulling tight and taut, and the Outsider slid his hands down Corvo’s sides, firm enough not to tickle, before settling at his hips. <Do brace yourself, my Host.>

Whatever was holding him up pulled until his legs dropped from around the Outsider’s waist, forcing him up higher then down lower to his knees. The Outsider’s hand buried itself in his hair, keeping him steady even as the strange power of the cybernetic world held him immobile. <I did some research,> the Outsider said in a conversational tone. <What one would do in this situation, and, before you protest, they weren’t from penny novels.>

“Should I be concerned?” Corvo asked, but his voice sounded as though it was coming from far away.

<No.>

Something squirming and slick enough to leave a tingling trail slid along his cock. Corvo jerked in his restraints with a shout as it gently circled the tip of his cock before it slid lower. Corvo hitched his hips to try to force it to go where he wanted it, but it just traced delicate patterns on the insides of his thighs and the space behind his balls, flicking across the head of his cock like a tongue.

“Ah, fuck, Outsider, please!”

The Outsider grinned with dozens of shark's teeth. <You do make such fascinating noises when you're like this,> he said, circling a nipple before pinching it sharply between his thumb and finger. Corvo squirmed in the unforgiving grip, not sure if he was trying to get away or push closer.

The Outsider latched onto the soft, sensitive spot just below his ear, sucking a mark where anyone could see. Corvo twisted so that his lover could have more access.

There was the sound of a zipper, and Corvo opened eyes he hadn't noticed he'd shut to see the Outsider's cock in front of him. Corvo lick his lips and leaned against the pull in his hair to lick a stripe up it.

<Look at you, my Host,> the Outsider crooned, stroking the back of his hand along Corvo's cheek. <You look so good like this. If I could, I would keep you like this forever.>

Corvo moaned around the Outsider's cock, his moan tipping up into a cry as the tongue, tentacle, whatever finally breached him. It was thin enough to easily penetrate him, but quickly grew larger until Corvo whined in discomfort at the stretch. Only then did it stop, letting him get used to the feeling as it flexed and flickered over the sensitive nerve endings inside of him.

It had been a while since he'd done this, but Corvo refused to give up before he'd really started. He relaxed his throat and jaw, pulling against the hand gripping his hair to swallow around the Outsider. The fingers on his jaw twitched when he did it, and Corvo dragged his eyes up the Outsider's torso to settle on his face. 

Despite the fact that the Outsider was simply a construct, there was a dark flush across his cheeks as he stared down at Corvo. Applying himself, Corvo breathed slowly through his nose and flexed his jaw, giving light suction to the Outsider. 

He pulled back slowly, tightening the seal of his mouth until he'd reached the tip of the Outsider's cock, treating him to the same sort of teasing that he was so fond of bestowing upon Corvo. He circled his tongue around, keeping the touch light and teasing, grinning up at the Outsider. 

<Careful, my Host,> the Outsider murmured. <You don’t get to come until after I do.> The tentacle flexed and rubbed sharply against his prostate. Corvo closed his eyes and shuddered at the sensation.

Defiant, Corvo repeated the teasing licks against the Outsider, sliding his mouth along the side of the Outsider’s cock, and dragging his tongue back up.

The Outsider narrowed his black eyes, and Corvo jerked as he felt a mouth close around his own cock, mirroring the motions of his own tongue.

<Let’s see how you like it,> the AI growled, sending vibrations through him.

Corvo shivered, but kept up his teasing ministrations, trying to ignore the way they echoed across his own skin. Following on his on growing desperation, Corvo pressed his mouth to the head of the Outsider’s cock and slid all the way down, as far as he could go.

Once he'd breathed through the thickness in his mouth, Corvo set to taking the Outsider apart. He swallowed, tilting his head just so and beginning a hard and fast suction that made him whine when he was echoed on his own body. 

The whine reverberated through them both and Corvo did it again, humming low in his throat. He tightened his mouth around the Outsider, pressing his tongue up against the sensitive underside of the Outsider’s cock, rubbing it there in time to his suction. 

Corvo's own hips jerked, and he whined again, glad that it was muffled. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Corvo slid the rest of the way down, pressing his forehead against the Outsider's hip. 

<Good,> the AI hummed, raking nails through his hair. <Good boy.> The tentacle inside him was rubbing against his prostate now, but never hard enough to fully tip him over the edge.

Corvo's whine slid upward in register, and he keened, leaning in to the Outsider and arching against whatever was holding him. He dragged his focus back to the Outsider, still whining, creating maddening vibrations. He swallowed again, his mind breaking to pieces when the mirror on his own cock did the same. 

The Outsider's fingers flexed in his hair, gripping hard and holding his head in place. Taking that as a sign, Corvo sucked hard, swallowing around the Outsider's cock.

His orgasm took him by surprise, as the Outsider pulled away. Everything happening to him increased for several brain melting moments - the thing against his prostate, the fingers ever tightening in his hair, the mouth around his cock - before the pleasure swelled sharply, tipping him over. 

Without the Outsider to muffle his sounds, Corvo  _ screamed. _

Slowly, the sensations faded away, leaving him hanging in his bonds. 

The Outsider gently wrapped his arms around him, taking his weight as Corvo was released. He curled around Corvo, cuddling him close.

<Did you enjoy that, my Host?>

Corvo nodded, pressing his face against the Outsider's neck. Words were harder to come by, in the immediate moments after, but he pressed a gentle kiss to the underside of the Outsider’s jaw.

A long-fingered hand stroked his hair. The Outsider pressed a kiss to his forehead, each eyelid, his lips, whispering, <Good boy.> He kept stroking up and down Corvo’s back, keeping in contact with him, bringing him back into himself.

“You've been planning this for a while,” Corvo murmured roughly, voice a bit ruined. He didn't move from his position, leaning more of his weight against the Outsider. 

<Since it was brought up,> the AI said. <I’ve been compiling and writing programs ever since to make this body as correctly humanoid as possible. All the motions and expressions had to be just right.>

Corvo curled his arms around the Outsider’s slim waist, holding on as he pulled back to look him over. “You succeeded,” he said. “This was… this was perfect, really.”

<Good,> the Outsider said. <But we can’t linger long. The Tower’s network cannot handle the strain for too long.>

Corvo nodded, pulling away from the Outsider and standing. His muscles still felt weak and watery, but he took a step back anyway. “Thank you, for this,” he said, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

The Outsider pressed against Corvo, kissing him once more. <What was it you said, the first time? It was my pleasure.>

Corvo laughed softly, leaning into the Outsider's embrace. “Literally, this time,” he said.

The Outsider chuckled, and then gently shoved Corvo away. <Sorry to send you back to a mess,> he said, just before Corvo experienced that same disorientation and found himself lying back in bed.

With distinctly, unpleasantly wet pants.

“Ugh,” Corvo groaned, and heaved himself out of bed, heading toward the washroom. “Thanks a lot,” he grumbled.

<Now, now,> the Outsider chided in his mind. <It’s not my fault your bodily functions are messy.> The door opened for him before he could even reach the access pad, and the bath began running.

“... That's handy,” Corvo commented, stripping off his soiled clothing. “Thanks.” He grinned over at one of the access points in the wall. “... Pornbot.”

<I hate you.>

Corvo laughed, climbing into the warm bathwater. “Lies,” he said.

The Outsider chuckled and didn't reply.

*

Martin's room in hospital was well hidden and guarded by both an Overseer and one of the Guard Captains, but Corvo simply had the Outsider hack into the hospital's mainframe to find it. 

He nodded to the guard, but lifted an eyebrow at the Overseer when he attempted to block Corvo's entrance to the room. “The High Overseer isn't accepting visitors!” he said, his voice high pitched and nervous. 

“By all means,” Corvo said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell him I'm here, I guarantee he'll accept  _ me _ .”

The recruit ducked into Martin's room, and came out less than a minute later, waving Corvo in. “He'll see you,” the Overseer muttered. 

Corvo walked through the door, closing it behind him with a decisive snick. “Martin,” he greeted, keeping his face and voice as neutral as possible. 

“Lord Protector,” Martin greeted, his voice a ravaged croak. “I’m afraid I can’t be discharged for trial just yet. Apparently, there’s major scarring along my stomach and throat.”

Corvo waved that off. “I'm not here about your trial.” He sat down in the chair next to Martin's bed. “I'll be honest… when I came here, I had a lot to say but there's been enough lies, no? Tell me,  _ Teague _ , what do you have to say for yourself?”

Martin sighed. “I did what I could in a situation where I had very few choices available to me. I really am sorry for what you suffered, Lord Attano, but  _ I had no other options. _ ”

“I don't care about the poison - I care that it was you, but the poisoning is relatively low on my list of priorities right now,” Corvo said sharply. “You're a sharp, intelligent man, and to be completely honest, Martin, I doubt you had no other options.” He pinned Martin with a glare. “You could have come to  _ me _ .”

“Attano, you’d confessed to  _ murdering the Empress, _ ” he ground out. “Would you trust a self-confessed murderer? I had an entire Abbey of Overseers, a tenuous position I’d really only obtained by blackmail, and a  _ madman _ holding a  _ gun to my head. _ ”

Dryly Corvo muttered, “Clearly the madman was more reputable.” He sighed, looking away from Martin and out toward the window. “Confession or not - You apparently trusted me enough to  _ kiss me _ before I left on another one of Havelock’s missions.” 

Martin rolled his eyes. “Trust has nothing to do with simple lust, Attano. You’re an attractive man. But you admitted to killing the greatest Empress we’ve ever had, after years of public dedication of your life to her. I’d take you to bed, but I wouldn’t trust you with a weapon at my back.”

“Real stellar choice there, considering I was the one who saved your life,” Corvo said acidly. “I didn't kill her.” He dug in his pocket for the drive with portions of Daud's memories on them, as well as the information he'd later found in Burrows office. “The - At Coldridge, they'd planted false feelings and memories, after taking my own. I don't remember most, if any, of my time there. Nor do I remember the day Jessamine died. But there, have your proof.”

Martin blinked at the drive, before fumbling a hand out of the blankets and plucking the drive from Corvo’s palm. “You understand I can’t just take you at your word?”

Silently, Corvo handed over a portable viewer. “By all means,” He said.

Martin accepted the viewer and plugged the drive in. Corvo watched his expression flicker as he watched the memories. When it was done, he closed his eyes.

Corvo watched him carefully, giving him a moment, before speaking again. “A copy of that went to Curnow, and the People have been told. Corvo Attano: Innocent. Framed.” He snorted. “But now we’re at at impasse, High Overseer.”

Martin opened his eyes and looked at Corvo. “I’m fair certain you have me by the balls here, Attano. It’s not exactly what I’d call an impasse.”

Corvo shook his head. “We are, you see. Because I don't want you to face trial.”

Martin stared blankly at him. “Why not? I’m in the wrong, here. You have enough evidence to put me away for a very long time.”

“Most of Havelock’s testimony was tossed because of his obvious mental illness, Pendleton is dead, and Sokolov has already gotten into - and out of - more trouble than the Guard feels like dealing with. As far as they're concerned, Anton and Piero were victims. You're the only loose end left.” He met Martin's eyes. “Of all the people who helped me, you and Samuel were the only two I called friend.” He took a deep breath. “I need a High Overseer I can trust, Martin,” he murmured. “One that won't turn on me when I least expect it.”

Martin raked his fingers through his hair and stared at Corvo. “Fuck,” he muttered indistinctly. “I don’t know what else to say.” He rubbed his eyes. “There’s nothing I can say that could persuade you to trust me after all this.”

Corvo inclined his head. “Keep my secrets, and Emily will pardon you,” he said. 

Martin narrowed his eyes. Corvo could see the calculations running behind his eyes. “Like the illegal AI you were keeping that ran your augmentations?”

Corvo stilled. He searched Martin’s face for signs of deception or betrayal, and finding nothing but honest - if calculating - curiosity, he made a concentrated effort to relax. “Were?” he asked. “Still have him.” 

Martin’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so,” he said, lightly. “I kept your secrets, Attano. I still do.”

“When’d you figure it out?” he wondered. 

“When I arrived at the Hound Pits, I came by your room to thank you for saving me. I didn’t stay long, but I heard you talking to someone and address them as ‘Outsider’.” Martin shrugged. “The Abbey spends enough time warning everyone about the dangers of AI, even shackled ones. The pieces weren’t hard to put together after that.”

Corvo curbed the urge to run his hand over his face. “Well. I can see I need to be a bit more careful how and when I speak to him,” he murmured. 

Martin affected a look of exaggerated shock. “It’s almost as if having an illegal AI is grounds for arrest and interrogation by the Overseers. Let alone having one in your mind. But surely no one would be that desperate or stupid. Isn’t that right, Lord Attano?”

“Desperation has nothing to do with it,” Corvo said, deliberately mild. “If you're looking for someone to blame, place it with Burrows and Campbell, since they're the ones who fucked with my memories in the first place.” He fixed Martin with a placid look. “The Outsider is as human as we are,” he said. “Removing him isn't an option.”

“Well, since  _ true _ AIs are a myth, we don’t even need to worry about that,” Martin said, giving Corvo a significant look. “As the newly-reinstated Lord Protector, rescuer of our Lady Empress, you’re going to be under constant scrutiny for years to come. I suggest you invest in an earpiece, if you’re getting contacted by your friend.”

“A good plan,” Corvo agreed. “So, High Overseer,” he said, putting emphasis on the title, “What's next for the Abbey?”

“The Abbey needs to be cleaned up,” he rasped, running a hand through his hair. “That’s a major undertaking on its own. Then there’s repairing our relationship with the Crown, not that I imagine Lady Emily would be quick to aid me in that, considering past events. I also need to try at least to fix the fucking initiation rituals. Too many people die from having their augmentations ripped out without anesthetic. If I haven’t been deposed or assassinated by then, well, we’ll see.”

“I suppose I should thank you,” Corvo murmured. “If you hadn't dosed me with ketamine, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You have my support - For whatever that might be worth.” He looked away from Martin, gazing out of the window. “It's going to take us a lot of time to fix what Burrows and Campbell ruined. We can neither of us afford to be at odds with our allies.”

“Very true,” Martin said. He held out a hand. “Allies, then?”

Corvo hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. “Allies.”

*

Emily looked nervous, as the rest of the nobles filed into the throne room. She sat primly, but her fingers clenched and unclenched around the arms of the chair. “Courage,” Corvo murmured to her.

“What if I get it wrong?” She whispered back. 

“You won't,” he replied with easy confidence. “And if you do, most of the people here won't even notice. You're going to be fine, sweetheart.”

As soon as the last noble had taken their seats and Thomas nodded to Corvo, he nudged Emily. Taking a deep breath, Emily stood and regarded the people gathered before her. “Good people of Dunwall,” she began, her voice a little thready with nerves. “We come together this day to recognize and name a Lord Defender. As Our first Defender since the time before Our esteemed Grandfather, Euhorn Kaldwin, We recognize Lord Gerome Burton.”

Gerome stepped forward to kneel before Emily. Despite being in a freshly-tailored suit, he still managed to make it look secondhand. The Imperial Tailor had looked devastated after being presented with Gerome. Before he bowed his head respectfully, Gerome glanced up at Emily and winked.

Relaxing a little, Emily looked gravely down at Gerome. “Lord Burton, will you solemnly promise to, within the best of your ability, protect, defend and care for Ourselves, the Empress Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, First of Our Name?”

“I do,” Gerome said. Corvo could just hear him censoring himself. It had taken four tries during rehearsals to keep him from improvising to make Emily laugh.

“And will you do your utmost to uphold the standards of the Kaldwin Legacy, should War, Famine - or Plague - come again to our Borders?” Emily managed to keep her voice even despite the wave of sound from the tittering nobles when she mentioned the Plague.

Where the audience couldn’t see, Gerome rolled his eyes at the nobles and mouthed “choffers” at Emily. “I do,” he said.

Smiling broadly down at Gerome, Emily reached over and picked up the ceremonial blade that Corvo had dug out of the Vault. “Then We hereby announce you to the People as Gerome Burton, Lord Defender.” She tapped his shoulder with the blade. “You may rise, and take your place as is befitting your station.”

Gerome stood, bowed deeply, and walked over to stand a foot behind the throne and to Emily’s left. He met Corvo’s eyes as he did so, and smirked while the assembled people couldn’t see. “Sure I can’t stab anyone?” He muttered just low enough to not carry.

Corvo snorted softly. “Don't tempt me.” He glanced around the assorted nobles who had begun to mingle and talk amongst themselves. “Though, you might get your wish. Lord Peverly is here, and he's been pushing his son as a candidate for Lord Protector since I turned thirty five. Watch yourself around him.”

Gerome's eyes flashed with sudden delight. “I'm gonna fuckin’ clean him out. He's gonna leave this fuckin’  _ soirée _ coinless. Now which one is he?”

“Lord Peverly is the balding man in blue with the terrible comb over by the banquet table,” Corvo answered. “His son, Otto, is across the room with the mob of blond hair and too many freckles.”

Gerome snorted. “The fuckin’ outfit ain't doin’ him any favours. The cut's all wrong for a man his size, an’ the colour’s fuckin’ washin’ him out.”

“You were wasted as an assassin, my friend,” Corvo said with a laugh. “Go challenge Otto to a game of Nancy. He’ll likely lose, but instead of simply paying you, he'll whine to his father. Two birds, one stone. Have fun, and don't let them ply you with drink.”

“Please,” Gerome scoffed. “I've been fuckin’ drinkin’ since I could hold a bottle. None of that pisswater champagne you upper class drin-- fuck.” He cut himself off and looked vaguely appalled. “ _ I'm _ fuckin’ upper class.”

Corvo snorted loudly, patting Gerome on the shoulder. “You get used to it.” 

He ignored Gerome's sullen “ _ I don't wanna.” _

“Regardless of your tolerance,” Corvo added, still grinning, “You're on the clock now. Can't be caught drinking on the job.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gerome muttered. “You’ve been over it twelve-fuckin’-times, Lord Over-Protective. I got this.”

“Just wait until they come up and start talking to you,” Corvo said, amused. 

“Fuckin’  _ joy _ .”

Emily turned her head to look at him. “ _ Language,  _ Uncle.” She grinned at him as she said it though and Corvo nudged her. “Oh no, Lord Peverly incoming,” She hissed and schooled her expression. 

“My  _ dear _ Lord Burton!” Leon Peverly said, projecting his voice to echo. “Such an  _ honour. _ Welcome to Court, welcome. You know, you must have beaten my son out of the running by a  _ very _ narrow margin.”

“Yeah, we had th’ tryouts when we were savin’ Lady Em,” Gerome said, thickening his common-born accent into nigh incomprehensibility. “Didn’ see yer son there. Guess I must’a missed ‘im.”

“... I see,” Lord Peverly said, frowning. “Lord Attano, where did you find this man again?”

Smiling, Corvo clapped Gerome on the shoulder. “Oh, I found him in a nightclub. He was moonlighting there, you see, and he went out of his way to save my life after all the nobles abandoned me to Coldridge. Please, Leon, have a drink. Do enjoy the party.” He looked over at the banquet table, dismissing Peverly. “Lord Burton, why don't you take the Empress to get something to eat, hm?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gerome drawled, offering Emily his arm with a flourish to make her giggle. “Let’s get some grub, Your Majesty.”

Peverly scurried out of the way as Gerome led Emily down toward the food and Corvo leaned his hip against the throne. “You can come out now, Thomas,” he said to the shadows behind him.

Thomas came up behind him, standing shoulder to shoulder. “I haven't had a chance to thank you,” Thomas murmured, eyes sweeping the room.

“Thank me? For what?” Corvo asked, glancing over at him.

Tilting his head toward Gerome and Emily, Thomas said, “You saved his life when you gave him this job. He'll bitch and whine over the title, but the rest of us Whalers know that after what happened in Old Dunwall, Gerome would have eaten his gun.” Thomas finally glanced over at Corvo. “He always held out hope that his wife or daughter would survive the Plague. Without that hope, he'd have been nothing. You gave him something to live for. So, thank you.”

Corvo inclined his head. “When I woke up in Coldridge with a gaping hole in my memories, thinking I killed Jessamine nearly made me do the same. I'm glad I could give him something more to live for.”

Thomas sighed, looking long suffering. “I suppose I also owe you some thanks of my own. And an apology for attacking you on Bottle Street.”

“Already forgiven and forgotten,” Corvo said easily. 

Corvo’s comm pinged with a message. Then another. He pulled it out to check.

_ wtf is a keesh _

_ atano why r the sandwiches so tiny _

_ wtf is w ur weirdass food _

Corvo snorted, tilting the comm so Thomas could see it.

_ In order: quiche* is egg-based pie with stuff in it, sandwiches are supposed to be finger food, and it's not my food, stop complaining. _

The reply came back almost immediately.  _ >:( u type lik a old man pb _

_ You type like you're twelve,  _ he sent back.  _ Emily types more coherently than you do. _

_ fuk  u _

Corvo rolled his eyes.  _ I've offered, you keep turning me down. _

_ FUCKIN REALLY U ASSHOLE _

Snickering, Corvo wrote back,  _ oh I'm sorry, were you drinking something? I do apologize. _

_ i hate u em is laughing @ me _

Corvo grinned.  _ EMBRACE IT _ . He put the comm away and turned to look at Thomas. “What?”

“Nothing,” Thomas said quickly. “I'll go brief the boss, boss.” He disappeared back into the shadows. 

Tapping the earpiece to develop the habit, Corvo murmured to the Outsider, “How are things in the ‘Net? All quiet?”

<Everyone is celebrating the return of the rightful Empress. There are, of course, muttering from the various extremist groups, such as the all-female Augment Rights group, Coven, but I predict it will settle down if Emily passes some pro-Augment laws that will undermine their platform.>

“Fair enough,” Corvo said. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

<Lord Peverly the younger is drunkenly challenging Lord Burton to a duel.>

“... What.” Corvo sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Well  _ that  _ didn't take too long. Guess we should go rescue poor Otto. Ready, Outsider?”

<Always, my Host.>

*The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued in " _God in the Blood_ " coming next Friday!


End file.
